


Heart's Change

by litrapod (litra), nefariosity



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Force Artifact (Star Wars), Force Nonsense, Happy Ending, Interrogation, Light Angst, M/M, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order Spoilers, Time Travel, Very Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litrapod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefariosity/pseuds/nefariosity
Summary: A mysterious force artifact sends a rebel Alexsandr back to his Imperial past while simultaneously bringing his Imperial counterpart to his present on Yavin IV. Alexsandr must keep his secret and face some hard choices while trying to find his way back. Meanwhile, Zeb has to simultaneously deal with the loss of his mate and the sudden reappearance of Agent Kallus on the Rebel Alliance's base...
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 29
Kudos: 80
Collections: Kalluzeb Mini-Bang 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! So excited to finally share this story with you; I've been working on it since September and have been dying to post it since January. Eternally grateful to: Litrapod, whose wonderful art you see this chapter and deathcomealive/mac who literally read this whole thing like. three times, called me out where I'd gone off track, and gave me so many amazing suggestions to make this better. Also huge thanks to hixystix for organizing all this! 
> 
> This story is 100% complete and a chapter will be posted every other day.


	2. Chapter 2

_Alexsandr stands in front of Zeb, their hands clasped together. Zeb’s luminous eyes look tenderly into his own, and his lips move as though speaking, but the sound is muffled, unintelligible, as if they are underwater. He feels his own lips move, though he can’t hear what he is saying. His lips form one final word, and this one Alexsandr does recognize - Zeb. The world dissolves, and suddenly sound has returned, crystal clear and almost overwhelming in its intensity. Zeb is looking into his eyes once more, but now his expression is anything but tender. He realizes he is holding his bo-rifle, and it’s clashing against Zeb’s with a ferocity he hasn’t felt in a while. He knows Zeb, knows how he fights, but even still, he finds himself struggling to keep up. Zeb fights like he’s really trying to maim him - he takes a hard swipe at his bad leg - or impale him - Zeb tries to jab his bo-rifle into Alexsandr's stomach - or blind him - Zeb strikes high, aiming for his eyes._

_"Zeb," he wants to gasp, but he can’t seem to control his body. He snarls instead, desperately trying to match the dizzying attacks, trying to find an opening of his own. His yellow bo-rifle crackles in his hands. Wait, his bo-rifle…_

_Their bo-rifles meet, lasat and human pushing against each other, trying to get the other to give way. Alexsandr locks eyes with Zeb, seeing no mirth or lust there, only disdain, hatred.... He braces himself against the floor... polished black durasteel…_

_"Spectre Four! Come on, we're leaving!"_

_And now Zeb is disengaging, making a break for the Ghost - as are - Ezra? Kanan?? and was that... a togruta? - leaving Alexsandr behind in what he suddenly realizes is the hangar bay of an Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer... the Lawbringer…_

Alexsandr Kallus woke suddenly, but didn't move a muscle, taking stock of his surroundings without opening his eyes. He quickly relaxed, feeling the sensation of fur pressed against his back. One strong arm was tucked under his neck like a pillow, the other was draped over his side, tickling his skin.

A dream. He burrowed deeper into Zeb's arms, causing the lasat to rumble deep in his chest and squeeze Alexsandr a little tighter. Alexsandr let out a sigh. This was the third time in the past week he'd had a strangely vivid dream of his imperial days like this. 

Usually, his dreams were not this clear; the settings vague, the being nebulous, faceless. As long as he could remember, he'd dreamt in impressions, shapes, feelings. He recalled the detail he'd seen in this dream: the scuffs on the floors, the tears in Zeb's armor, the hatred in his eyes. He shivered, despite being a little over-warm in Zeb's arms. This dream had felt real, even clearer than a memory.

"Time is it?" mumbled Zeb behind him. Alexsandr tapped his chrono where he'd looped it through one of the slats supporting the top bunk. Zeb hissed at the dim light that shone out for a moment.

"We don't have to be up for another two hours. Back to sleep, Garazeb."

"'Y'd better sleep too," slurred Zeb. "'Wake me up in one." He took his limply hanging top hand and settled it with more purpose very low on Alexsandr's belly, giving him a quick pat before sliding it back up to his chest. "If y'want." Alexsandr clasped both hands over Zeb's, chuckling lowly.

"We'll see." Behind him, Zeb was already asleep again. Alexsandr closed his eyes and let himself drift off as well, though the strange dream lingered in his thoughts. He breathed deep, trying to put it out of his mind. He was working hard to put those days behind him, but he was starting to fear he could never truly be free of them. He sometimes wondered if he'd really changed at all, if he was still the same callous, devious Imperial, just standing in a different room, surrounded by different people. Zeb always told him he'd changed, but Alexsandr wasn't so sure.

They ended up decidedly not waking up an hour later after their early-morning interlude; when Alexsandr opened his eyes, his chrono told him they'd slept another two and a half hours.

"Kark," he hissed, shaking Zeb awake. They ended up rushing around the cabin, haphazardly preparing for the day. Alexsandr was a little more rushed than Zeb, who wasn't on as strict a schedule.

"Don't forget this," said Zeb, grabbing a pendant from the desk where Alexsandr had lain it the night before and handing it over to him.

The pendant in question was... a bit of a mystery. Alexsandr had acquired it on a mission he’d gone on just a few weeks before he'd been stranded on Bahryn - a mission that he’d lost all memory of shortly thereafter. It was a crystal - deep purple and smooth on the outside, but with a two-pronged crack in the center - hung from a black leather cord. Kallus hooked it around his neck, barely noting its familiar weak heat. 

It was unlike him to have kept such a trinket, but something had possessed him to keep it, all those years ago, and it had taken on a new meaning just a few weeks later. He'd never told Zeb this, but the color reminded Alexsandr of his fur, right down to the little stripe in the middle. Right after Bahryn, it had served as a talisman to remind him of the questions Zeb had made him start to ponder, then as a reminder of why he was choosing to be Fulcrum. Now, it felt like a connection to Zeb when he was off planet. Sometimes, he'd hold onto it at night, feeling the warmth in his hand and wishing Zeb was there with him. Knowing why he couldn't be. He wore it every day, a constant reminder of his resolve for his new cause.

"Thanks," he said, taking a few precious seconds to pause and ponder it as something caught his eye. The crystal had started glowing about six months ago, and Alexsandr was sure it was getting brighter…

"Sasha," said Zeb, a little sharp. "Its oh-six-fifty-four!" Six minutes until Alexsandr's shift started.

"Karabast," hissed Alexsandr under his breath. He hastily pulled Zeb close to raggedly drag their cheeks together. "See you tonight!"

"Don't piss off Draven too much," called Zeb after him. "Need ya in one piece, ya hear?" Alexsandr didn't respond, dashing off a quick salute at Sabine, who was slumped over a cup of caf in the lounge as he ran out.

"Later Kal," she yelled after him, returning a much sloppier salute. "My dinner night tonight! Be ready for some authentic _Tiingilar_!"

"Always," he yelled back.

He made it to security, very out of breath, just as his chrono chimed oh seven hundred. Draven raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything. Alexsandr settled at his desk, tried to slow his breathing as he regarded his inbox, already full since he'd left his shift at fifteen hundred yesterday. He took a moment, shifting his brain back into work mode. It was kind of nice, actually. Before, he hadn't ever gone off work mode. He cracked his knuckles, ready to start another day of intelligence work that would hopefully bring them that much closer to the end of the Empire.

* * *

"Sasha, you've got to come see something." Alexsandr looked up from his datapad. A few intelligence officers working around them looked up, but most stayed bent over their desks or huddled around their holo-displays. Zeb stood above him, looking expectantly at him. Alexsandr was very glad to have Zeb planetside right now but he was decidedly _not_ supposed to be here at the moment.

"I'm working right now, Garazeb."

"Your shift is over in ten minutes," protested Zeb. More people were starting to look over now.

"Then you can wait ten more minutes. Let me finish up what I'm doing." Alexsandr could tell Zeb was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but he didn't. He didn't say anything else either, just threw Alexsandr a small salute and moved to lounge on a bench just outside the door. Alexsandr knew he wouldn't take it personally. It had been a bit of an adjustment, trying to balance a relationship and being ranking members of the Alliance, but they both understood that ultimately, duty came first, especially while they were on the clock. He did have to admit that he did have a tendency to work a little too much off the clock, something that Zeb was quick to point out and was doing his very best to break Alexsandr of.

Alexsandr finished decrypting the transmission he was working on - troop movements in the Ryloth sector, _routine_ \- and cleared it from his inbox, taking a moment to glance over what was still there. There were only a few, and he sighed, glancing over at where Zeb was waiting. He was itching to do them now, finish them all up. But he knew that by the time he finished those, three new ones would be waiting for him, and then another batch again, until he'd stayed up the whole night.

"Ya gotta take care of yourself." He could hear Zeb's voice in his mind. "You're of no use to anybody if you're dead on your feet or if ya can't see straight. And even if you are of use, it hurts your family to see ya like that."

So he left his inbox the way it was and tidied up his desk. Snagged a dry pastry each for him and Zeb from the mostly picked-over box someone had brought for breakfast. Double checked his desk one more time, and headed out toward his mate. Two past the hour.

Astonishingly, Zeb didn't comment on his two minutes over, accepting the pastry gratefully and chowing down with one hand, and offering out his other to Alexsandr to take. He did, smiling over at Zeb.

"I've missed you all day," he said. Zeb squeezed his hand.

"Me too," said Zeb, his voice gentle. "Feels like it's almost harder when I'm actually here, ya know?"

"I know. At times I can barely concentrate, knowing you're so close by."

"Heh, at least we make good use of the nights." Out of the corner of his eye, Alexsandr saw a passing togruta glare at him as they passed by. Most rebels had accepted him as one of their own by now, but there were some, it seemed, that would never trust a former ISB agent. Alexsandr tried not to let the looks get to him. For all he knew, he might have personally hurt some of them, or their families. He had hurt a lot of people over the years. This togruta did look a little familiar…

Zeb must have seen the glare as well, because he squeezed Alexsandr's hand. “Maybe she’ll come round one a’ these days.” Alexsandr thought that was a strange thing to say - he couldn’t recall having ever seen this being since being on Yavin- but he appreciated the sentiment. With an effort, he pulled his thoughts away, trying to let the regrets go, as Zeb was always telling him to do.

"So what's all this about then?" asked Alexsandr, changing the subject. "Does this have something to do with the temples you're digging around in?" The _Ghost_ was grounded for a month - officially for repairs, unofficially for Hera's maternity leave - and in the meantime, Zeb and Sabine had been scouting out the other ruins on Yavin IV to see if there were any more salvageable buildings to use as storage or barracks space, or to find any supplies that may still be usable by the Alliance. So far they hadn't had much luck.

Yeah," said Zeb. "Think we finally found one we might be able to use. We were clearin' it out today, and we found a crystal that looks a helluva lot like yours."

Alexsandr touched the crystal where it lay underneath his shirt, feeling the faint heat that bled through. "What a strange coincidence."

"I know, right?" Zeb shrugged. "Figured we'd ask you to take a look at it, maybe we can compare 'em - at least we know yours is safe to touch. Where'd you get it, anyway?" Now it was Alexsandr's turn to shrug.

"This is going to sound strange but... I don't remember. I got knocked on the head right after I got it. Don't remember anything from that whole week."

Zeb stopped. "Wasn't me that knocked ya, was it?" Alexsandr turned to face him. Guilt was written all over his face. Alexsandr reached up to cup one cheek. "Not at all," he soothed, then ducked his head, embarrassed. "I almost wish it was. I don't actually remember what happened. Apparently I collapsed in my room."

Zeb shook his head. "Probably workin' too hard, as usual."

"Good thing I've got you now."

Zeb smiled at him and squeezed his hand again. They continued on in silence a few short meters before Zeb stopped them in front of one of the many crumbling buildings. "All right, here we are."

The outside of the structure looked quite a bit more intact than any of the other buildings they’d seen on their way there, but the inside was a different story. “Are you sure we could use this place?” he asked Zeb as they made their way along the path that Zeb and Sabine had made earlier. Many of the interior walls were collapsed, with rubble shifted to make crude doorways. It was dark inside, the only light the eerie green glow from the glowrods Zeb and Sabine had attached to the walls. 

“Dunno,” replied Zeb, grunting as he squeezed through a particularly narrow doorway. “Guess it depends how bad we need the space. The central chamber’s pretty intact, and if we had enough people, we could probably clear out these outside passages pretty quick.” 

They finally made their way through one last doorway. Before he could even take in the chamber, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a wall of feeling that seemed to slam into his chest. Dread... anticipation... a sense of... inevitability… He thought he felt his crystal pulse against his chest. Zeb looked back at him, concerned, but the feeling quickly retreated, lingering faintly in the back of his mind. Alexsandr shook his head and moved to keep up with Zeb, taking in the chamber around him. 

As Zeb had said, this room was intact, strangely so compared to the rest of the temple. It was almost clear from any debris; only a fallen pillar was out of place. There were three other intact pillars holding up the ceiling and a stone dais in the very middle of the room. Sabine was standing on this dais, leaning over to inspect a pedestal giving off an amethyst glow. A skylight provided the only other light, a shaft of sunlight that helped illuminate the pedestal, although between the fading daylight and the canopy of trees overhead, the light it provided was weak. 

“It’s over here, where Sabine is,” said Zeb to Alexsandr, then called out “I got him," to Sabine. 

"No, really?" Sabine straightened and hopped off the dais, walking toward them. "I'd never have known. You two make more noise than a herd of Banthas." Zeb growled and cuffed her on the arm as they reached her, gave her a look at her dramatic "ow!" Sabine flicked Zeb lightly on the arm and he tousled her hair. 

Alexsandr smiled to see the two of them, but he also felt the time ticking on. It would be getting dark soon. “I thought you two had something to show me?”

"Yeah, yeah,” said Zeb. “You first, though. Show it to her, Sasha.” Alexsandr slipped the necklace off and held it up to her. She leaned in, peering closely at the crystal. "This one's glowing too," she noted, unclipping a glowrod from her belt and clicking it on to get a better look in the dim light. The crystal sparkled a little in the new light, a dazzling deep amethyst. The deep, double-pronged crack became more prominent.

"You're right Zeb," she said. "Except for the crack, it might be the same crystal. Looks to be the same shape... may I?" This last, she said a little more hesitantly, holding out her hand, but Alexsandr knew she wasn't demanding it. He knew what demanding looked like in Sabine Wren by now. Wordlessly, he complied. Zeb craned his neck over to look as Sabine brought it close to her face, examining every inch. "The setting's even the same, and the cord," she said, running her fingers over the intricate metal that allowed the crystal to hang from the thin black strip of leather. Now Zeb held his hand out, and she obliged him.

"So you don't know how you got it, huh," he said, gazing intently at the crystal. "Do you at least know where this mission was that you don't remember?"

Alexsandr shook his head. "I'm sure I found out, but it was so long ago now. It definitely wasn't here. I would have remembered hearing the name when we got here the first time."

Zeb handed him back the necklace and Alexsandr slipped it back on. "Here, over here," he said, heading over toward the glowing purple light in the center of the room, indicating Alexsandr to follow him. "Let's compare. I'm sure there's somethin' there... what are the odds we'd find a crystal exactly the same as yours on Yavin IV of all places?” 

Alexsandr stepped up to the pedestal, and saw what did, indeed, appear to be almost identical to his crystal. That strange feeling he'd felt when he entered the room came back in full force. He stared at it, enthralled by the sight.

"Do you hear that," he whispered, unable to tear his gaze away. The closer he got, the louder he heard it: a thousand whispers in a strange language. And above it all, a slightly louder hiss: "Take it, warrior! Take it!" His hand twitched.

"I don' hear anything," said Zeb, his voice sounding strangely far away. The whispers were almost deafening now, and he couldn't resist the call of the loudest one any longer. "Take it!" He reached out his hand.

"Wait, don't -" he heard, as if from fifty feet underwater, but he was powerless to stop himself. His fingers curled around the crystal --

_CRACK_

Alexsandr recovered from a stumble and opened his eyes to see -- the center of a smoking village? A group of... togruta?

"You all right, Agent?" He looked to the voice. A stormtrooper sergeant and half a squad stood at his side, weapons drawn. He was sure that if he looked to his other side, he'd see the other half.

“I'm fine, Sergeant," he said, almost automatically. He didn't dare make it look too obvious that he had no clue what was going on, using his peripheral vision to assess the situation. He was wearing... his ISB uniform and armor? He worked hard to make sure his breathing didn't speed up. _What the kriff was going on?_

* * *

"Do you hear that?" asked Alexsandr, his voice barely a whisper. That was the moment Zeb's curiosity started to turn to something more like fear. He exchanged a concerned look with Sabine. "I don't hear anything," he said, not even bothering to keep the apprehension out of his voice. He looked around the room, trying to find anything that could be making this noise Alexsandr was talking about. Maybe it was something that was beyond the hearing of a lasat? But Sabine's twin look of disturbed concern put that idea to rest. In his moment of distraction, he didn't notice that Alexsandr was reaching out toward the crystal until it was too late.

"Wait, don'!" He yelled, grabbing Alexsandr's arm back, but not before Alexsandr had got hold of the crystal on the pedestal. There was a loud _CRACK_ , and sudden darkness. Alexsandr stumbled. 

"Sasha!" Zeb moved in to support his mate, although the man was already recovering. He held on anyway, putting an arm around a shoulder, a hand under an elbow to help if he faltered again. Sabine had rushed over as well, although she was now moving toward the pedestal, apparently satisfied that Zeb had Alexsandr in hand.

"All right, that's it, yer officially not allowed to go around touchin' strange crystals in temples anymore," Zeb chuckled, giving Alexsandr's shoulder a squeeze. Alexsandr stiffened, straightened. He looked… annoyed? He yanked himself away from Zeb's grasp and Zeb, surprised, held up his hands, backing away slightly. "Sorry." Alexsandr's face contorted into a snarl, and Zeb felt a twinge of confused horror bubble up in him. He hadn't seen that look on Alexandr Kallus's face in a long, long time. Since, perhaps... Bahryn.

"You," snarled Alexsandr. "Lasat." Zeb reared back with shock. _Lasat_? Alexsandr backed away from him slowly. Zeb saw him discreetly check his hip for a blaster, then his back -- for what? His training staff? "And the Mandalorian as well."

"What the..." Sabine’s eyes were wide with shock. Having apparently realized he was unarmed, Alexsandr tensed, bending his knees just a bit, bringing his arms up to protect his core. Getting ready to fight. Zeb knew he could hold his own decently against himself and Sabine, even unarmed. But why would he prepare to fight them? What was happening? "I don't know how you managed to capture me off Kiros, but I promise you, you will not live to regret that you did."

"Kiros? Sasha..." said Zeb again, helplessly. He felt like he was in shock, unable to process what was happening in front of him. Was he dreaming?

"I don't know who you're talking about," snarled Alexsandr, his sharpening scowl, his loud, strained voice belying the words. Zeb could see him swivelling his head, desperately trying to use his peripheral vision to make sure he wasn't being surrounded while still keeping Zeb and Sabine in his sights.

Next to him, Sabine had entered a ready stance as well, her hands hovering over her blasters. Zeb's heart clenched.

"We're not going to hurt you, Kal,” said Sabine. She and Zeb shared a desperate look. _What is going on?_ They needed to subdue Alexsandr, get him to a safe place. Figure out what was going on. He couldn't have turned on them, could he? Zeb felt sick just thinking about it. _It's not possible._ It seemed more likely that Alexsandr had had a psychotic break, talking about being captured. From Kiros, of all places. _What the actual kriff?_

Trying to be as subtle as he could, Zeb touched his thumb and forefinger together to make a circle, a signal to Sabine. _Stun him_. She'd brought one of her small blasters with her; he'd left his bo-rifle back on the ship. She didn't nod, just returned the gesture to show she'd understood. Alexsandr, bless and damn the ever-observant man, noticed, and bolted for the makeshift doorway into the hallway. Zeb was after him in a heartbeat, catching up with him easily and tackling him. He could knock him on the head easily enough, but wanted to leave that as an absolute last resort. This was still his Sasha. He didn't want to give him even more brain damage.

"Sabine," he barked. "Now!" He wrestled with Alexsandr, trying to present an easy target for Sabine to shoot at, as much as it killed him inside.

"You will pay for this," hissed Alexsandr just before Sabine got her shot off, stunning him into unconsciousness. He collapsed into Zeb's arms, and Zeb allowed himself a moment to hold his mate's body close, letting a moan of mourning escape him.

"What the ever-loving kriff," said Sabine, coming up to examine Alexsandr with him. He didn't look any different from the Alexsandr Kallus who had walked into the ancient Massassi chamber. Long hair fell across his eyes, and a little extra weight sat around his middle. The weight especially had been hard-won, with Zeb making sure his mate didn't skip his meals in favor of work any time he was on base. He always made sure to find interesting recipes and ingredients wherever he went to bring back to Alexsandr, who, it turned out, was quite the accomplished cook with especial interest in xenogastronomy. Zeb closed his eyes and held his mate close, knowing it was probably stupid, but unable to help himself. _My Alexsandr... Sasha_... he allowed a low moan to rumble in his throat again.

"Zeb," called Sabine, her voice gentle. She tossed him a pair of binders from her utility belt. "Here... put... those on." Zeb did as she said, just going through the motions, unable to think too hard about what he was doing.

Zeb sank to the floor, cradling his mate's body in his arms. He barely registered as Sabine patted Alexsandr down, then moved in a search pattern around the room, glowrod aimed at the floor.

"I think the crystal is gone," she said as she finally returned back to Zeb's side. "I can't find it anywhere." Zeb reached down Alexsandr's shirt to pull out his mate's crystal. He felt sick looking at it.

"This one is still here,” he said. Sabine leaned in to examine it.

“And I'm pretty sure it's glowing brighter now." It took a moment for Zeb to register what she said, but looking close, he thought she was right. And the light was ever so subtly... pulsing in a way that Zeb knew he had never seen before. He didn't know what to make of it. Didn't have the wherewithal to think about it at the moment.

"Guess we'd better take him back to base," said Zeb, feeling suddenly very drained. "Starting with medical. Could that thing have caused brain damage, d'ya think?

Sabine shook her head. "I have no idea," she said. She sounded as helpless as Zeb felt. "Guess we'd better get him back so we can find out." Zeb took a deep breath, pushing down his pain. They had to get Alexsandr to safety.

“Run ahead,” he said to Sabine. “Go and get us hovercart, or a speeder if that’s all you can find. I’ll start carryin’ him.” 

Sabine nodded. “Here, take this,” she said. Zeb gulped as she handed him her blaster. “Just in case you need it.” Zeb took the blaster, feeling numb. He tucked it into a pocket. 

“Hopefully it won’ come to that.” His own voice felt as if it were coming from far away. Sabine nodded again, then sprinted off into the night. 

Zeb scooped Alexsandr off the floor, grunting as he settled him over his shoulder. He tried not to look at his mate or think too much about what he was doing. It wasn’t easy. Zeb sighed and squared his shoulders, gearing up to pick his way through the temple with two hundred pounds of dead weight on his back. It was going to be a long walk back to base, for more reasons than one.

* * *

"Well, Agent? What are your orders?"

Alexsandr let years of ISB training and Imperial service take over. He had no idea where he was, or what was going on, although he appeared to be in the center of a smoking village. A squad of stormtroopers was formed up on either side of him. They had their blasters trained on what appeared to be all the inhabitants of the village they were currently occupying. They were all togruta, and clearly terrified. There were children in the group, whose mothers and fathers were desperately trying to quiet them. Suddenly, a single word rang through his head. _Kiros_. That was where the mission had been, the one he'd forgotten. The togruta, the lush green landscape... that must be where he was now.

He was clutching something tightly in one hand, currently folded behind his back. From its contours, he suspected that it was that all-nine-hells-damned crystal. It had clearly transported him here somehow. But why here? Why was he dressed like, being treated like an ISB agent again?

"Agent?"

He didn't have time to think about the implications of his realization just yet. He should treat this situation like the worst case scenario: he was back in the Empire to stay, and his decisions would have real and lasting consequences, for himself and others. He prayed to the Ashla that this was not actually the case.

"You," he pointed to a female togruta. One of the only beings not holding a child. She looked the least afraid of any of the civilians in front of him, defiance lighting up her eyes. To his shock, he recognized her. He'd seen her, not an hour before, on Yavin. "You're coming with us to be questioned. Leave the rest," he sneered, trying to infuse his voice with as much arrogant confidence as he possibly could. "They'll be of no use to us." He stepped closer, towering over the civilians, trying to look as intimidating as possible. "I'm letting you go this time, so you warn your other villages what will happen, should there be a next time." He motioned to the Stormtroopers to detain the togruta he'd pointed out. The civilians continued their cowering. He heard a stifled cry from another togruta, another female. The child of the being he'd detained? The sister? The wife? A pang went through his heart. 

He couldn't just let them all go; it would look too suspicious. And the only other ways forward had been to capture them all or kill all or a few of them to set an example. This path would likely be his best bet for dealing with this situation with the least amount of bloodshed and pain possible. He’d have to interrogate this being, but maybe he could help her escape somehow. He doubted he'd be able to get away with quietly sending her back, not unless he wanted to have every step he took come under enormous scrutiny.

"The rest of you," he said, once the togruta had been cuffed and was being marched up to the ship. "Continue on with your business." Not a single being moved. "Now." They scrambled, only the woman who'd cried out before not immediately turning tail and running. "Eeeeeiiiiii," she wailed. She was quickly pulled away by another woman, wailing the whole way. As discreetly as he could, Alexsandr looked back at the prisoner. She was trying valiantly to keep her face composed, but she couldn't hide the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes. Alexsandr felt gutted. _I'll make sure you get back to her_ , he thought.

"There's nothing more of use to us here," he said. That cold, steely voice, the commanding, degrading language. It was all too easy to fall back into, even as it filled him with a disgust that was difficult to conceal. "Back to the ship, troopers."

"Sergeant," he said, pulling aside the leader of the squad. "Have the prisoner sent to the detention center. Let her stew a while. I'll interrogate her myself."

"Understood, Agent Kallus," said the sergeant. They made their way back to the ship, Alexsandr bringing up the rear. As surreptitiously as he could, he slipped the crystal that had been clenched in his hand into his pocket, desperately hoping they were going back to the Lawbringer. What he needed now, he thought, was time. Time and space alone to figure out just what the hell was going on.


	3. Chapter 3

Years of training allowed Kallus to come to silently, still, taking stock of his surroundings before his captors knew he was awake. He was lying down, on something soft enough to be a bed, rather than, say, an interrogation table. He felt soft restraints at his wrists and ankles, felt that his limbs were pulled tight to the four corners. He thought there was a belt over his midsection. He was tied down, and - he gave the slightest tug with each of his limbs - totally immobilized. But this didn't seem like an interrogation setup. This type of restraint was more common in a medical setting, although probably more restrictive than usual. His hands were restrained only at the wrists, he noted. His fingers were free.

"What setting was your blaster set at, Sabine?" he heard someone say. The lasat. "He's been out for hours now!"

"Sorry, Zeb." A woman's voice. The Mandalorian. "I didn't want to hurt him, but I wanted to make sure we'd have enough time to get him back to base before he woke up." Kallus internally perked up at the word "base." Amateurs, he thought. How had they eluded him so long? Maybe they should learn not to spill their secrets in front of enemies, unconscious or not. _Keep talking, rebels._

"Karabast," muttered the lasat. Garazeb Orrelios. Apparently Zeb to his friends. "That kriffin' crystal... I shouldn'ta... Sasha..." And there it was again. _Sasha_? Kallus couldn't see the lasat, but he could swear he sounded close to tears. It took all of Kallus's training to keep his face still. How did this... beast know his given name? Or dare to call him even more familiarly?

"You couldn't have known," said another voice. The twi'lek, he thought. Syndulla. Her voice was gentle. How soft these rebels were. It would be their downfall. "There was no brain damage, right?" Three Spectres. He hadn't heard the voices of Jarrus or Bridger, and didn't sense enough movement in the room for five people.

"No..." the lasat sounded bewildered. "They did a level four brain scan. A full physical. Bloodwork. Nothin'."

He thought about how to proceed. Something was clearly going on here that he didn't understand. These rebels knew him in a way he didn't know them. Had he been captured by them? Tortured? Drugged? Made to forget who he was, forced to use his knowledge of the Empire against his will? And this... crystal or whatever they were talking about.... had what? Shocked him out of his drugged stupor?

It seemed the rebels had fallen silent now. He waited a little longer to see if they would start talking again. After four or five minutes of silence, Kallus decided he'd learned everything he usefully could in this state. He didn't want to rouse suspicion by appearing to be unconscious for much longer. He groaned, feigning that he was just now coming to. He squeezed his eyes together, hissed, affecting a pain he didn't truly feel. For having been stunned, he could feel a lot worse. He finally cracked open his eyes.

He had a limited field of view of anything that wasn't the ceiling, but craning his neck down, he was able to see that he did in fact appear to be in a medical bay, although it was strangely devoid of personnel at the moment. He thought it looked rather too large to be the med bay on the ship the size of the _Ghost_. Three beings had rushed over to his side as soon as he'd started to stir, and were now standing over him, exactly the ones he'd thought. Spectres two - who appeared to be very pregnant- four, and five. The looks on their faces weren't ones of hatred, but rather... fear? Hope? Orrelios had an especially strange look on his face. A... tender one that Kallus had never seen before. The Spectres apparently thought he was a friend. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

"Where am I?' he said, affecting a timid voice, injecting a fear into his timbre that was all too easy to conjure up. "What happened?" He remembered what he'd heard the Mandalorian call the lasat. "Zeb?" The beast's face was overcome with what could only be relief.

"Alexsandr," he breathed, crouching down beside him, squeezing his hand between his giant fingers. "Sasha. Thank the Ashla. You went all weird at that temple." Temple. Kallus filed that away for later. He repressed a shudder as Orrelios tenderly slid his fingers down his palm, toward his wrist. He was going to undo the bindings. "Went all Imperial, all of a sudden..."

"Spectre Four," said Syndulla, her voice sharp. "Wait. Don't undo it yet. We need to make _sure_ he's back to normal before we let him go." Kallus kept the annoyance he felt from his face. Still, he couldn't begrudge the twi'lek. It's what he would do, after all. It was his bad luck that her common sense had kicked in now.

Orrelios drew back his hand, although he didn't go far, squeezing Kallus' fingers again. "Fine." He looked at Kallus's face searchingly. Kallus returned the gaze, not knowing what the Orrelios expected from him. He tried to keep his face soft, blank.

" _Ky san an?_ " said the lasat, then looked expectantly at him, clearly expecting a reply. Kallus gazed back, still keeping his face soft, although he could feel that his ability to keep up this charade was soon going to run out. Just how long had these rebels kept him captive here? Long enough to learn a language? And why was this lasat, of all beings, looking at him like... like... like Kallus was precious to him?

" _Ky san an_?" repeated Orrelios, his eyes narrowing now, his ears starting to press tight against his head. He was suspicious. Behind him, Syndulla and Wren were closing ranks. Both of them looked like they'd made up their minds that he wasn't a friend, their eyes narrowed, faces set. Syndulla's arms were still firmly crossed atop her very large belly, and Wren's hands were resting on her twin blasters at her hips. "C'mon," growled the Lasat. " _Na karer_! Sasha... Ni _Sashura_..."

At that simple word, Kallus felt as though someone had shot a stunner bolt at him again. How in the galaxy did this rebel know that name? His mother’s name for him. A name he hadn't been called in probably twenty-five years.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep the shock he felt from his face. Now Orrelios was looking stormier, ears fully flat against his head. He didn't look exactly angry, but his brow was furrowed. A distrustful expression. Kallus knew he'd lost the chance to feign friendship with these beings. His mind raced. Should he still try and act sympathetic, perhaps like he'd only partially lost his memory? No. He'd never be able to sustain a facade like that. He didn't have enough information. He allowed his expression to contort into his familiar sneer.

"I don't know how you came up with that, lasat," he said. "But if you ever say it again, you will regret it." Orrelios' face went through the most curious sequence of emotions, shock, despair, then landing finally back on the snarl that Kallus was most familiar with. He wrenched his hand away from Kallus' and drew himself up to his full height. Kallus didn't let his face flicker for a second, not showing... not _letting_ himself be intimidated by the height and strength of the brute in front of him.

"Spectre Five," said Syndulla. She hadn't moved an inch this whole time, her arms folded firmly in front of her, her expression pure steel. "Put the ship on full lockdown. Looks like we've got a prisoner to deal with."

* * *

Luckily, the ship that Alexsandr, his troopers, and his prisoner were brought back to was the _Lawbringer_. Lucky only in the sense that at least if he had to be transported back to Imperial service, at least it was on a ship that he was familiar with.

He thanked the stars also that it was getting later in standard hours when they got back to the ship. It meant that no one would blink an eye if he put a sleep shift in between his return and the start of his interrogation.

He made his way back to his quarters easily, the way familiar even after all these years. It almost felt, he thought with a lurch in his stomach, like he’d never left. Once there, he allowed himself to collapse heavily onto the edge of the bed, taking stock of his current situation. He was definitely in one of his own ISB uniforms, or a very sophisticated copy. The small tear on the inside of his leg that he'd repaired himself was there, as was, he determined as he took off his chest armor, the small imperfection on the small printed "B" in his identification code along the bottom edge. His body was his Imperial body as well. Rebel Captain Kallus was not exactly overweight, but he had filled out quite a bit due to Zeb's not-exactly-subtle machinations to get him to eat more. Alexsandr couldn't complain when those extra bits were so thoroughly worshiped in their moments alone.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought. He couldn't allow himself to get swept up in self-pity or thoughts of Zeb. He had to figure out what was going on and how he was going to get back.

He allowed himself a few moments to just sit on his bed, eyes closed, taking deep breaths to help center himself, the way Kanan had shown him once before his untimely demise on Lothal. _Don't think about that either_.

Far sooner than he would have liked, he forced himself to open his eyes, make his way over to sit at his tiny drab desk in his tiny drab room. Sometimes it was annoying having bunkmates back on base, but right now, alone in his cold quarters, he felt their absence, felt Hera, Sabine, and especially Zeb’s absence like a physical ache in his chest. He powered on his data pad and closed his eyes in resignation when he saw the date. Fifteen years after the formation of the Empire. Had he… _traveled back in time?_ His hand went to the pocket where he'd secreted the crystal that had started this whole mess. He thought it was the crystal from the temple, not the one he'd worn for the past few years. It was glowing, warm, slightly... pulsating in his hand. There was a single crack in the center. The spark of an idea ignited and slowly swam up to the surface of his thoughts as he stared at the small thing in his hand. A glowing, mystical crystal. Found in an ancient temple... something that Kanan Jarrus had said to him once about the temples on Yavin IV niggled at the back of his mind. He reached for his data pad.

First things first. In order for the togruta to make it off this ship alive, she'd have to escape, and Alexsandr wouldn't be able to help her... at least, not directly. He could, however, send a message as Fulcrum, imploring someone to rescue one of the beings who had helped the Spectres escape from Kiros and had been captured by the Empire as a result. He went through the necessary steps to send the message, praying that his code had been in use this early - he added some additional coded language he thought High Command as well as Hera would recognize, even this early. He added in the - to his knowledge - false information that the togruta had knowledge of the location of the Dantooine base, and gave them the specifics of where the prisoner was located and which hangar bay would be best to land in. He'd be sure to make their passage as smooth as he could without giving himself away.

That done, he turned himself to other pursuits, digging deep into the Imperial archives, deeper than he'd ever gone before. It took all of his considerable skill to slice in without his personal identifier, and even then, it took him the better part of four hours before he finally sat, blinking, disbelieving, looking at something that he’d presumed destroyed during the formation of the Empire: the contents of the Jedi archives.

He resisted the urge to just scroll for hours, although he knew that he may never get another chance to access this wealth of knowledge, especially if all went well with what he learned today. He instead entered in a search keyword that he'd heard Kanan mention when they'd first landed on Yavin. He didn't dare enter the name of the planet itself; even without his identifier, he didn't want to put any potential future rebels at any more risk than he had to, instead entering the name of the group that had originally built the massive temples that formed their compound, according to Kanan - Sith.

As it turned out, Kallus got to do his hours of scrolling. Keywords "sith" and "artifact" and even adding in "time travel " to narrow it down further returned thousands of results. Kallus never found exactly what he was looking for, but by the time his computer beeped out a one hour warning for the end of his sleep shift, he had learned a great deal about Sith artifacts and the kinds of things they could do to unsuspecting beings that got near them. About shatterpoints that often served as temporal magnets for their victims. He'd read many accounts of these travelers, some ending happily, and some decidedly not. The only constant between the stories seemed to be the unpredictable nature of them.

 _Knowledge is power_ , Kallus reminded himself, more than a little apprehensive after hours of reading these grim accounts in the dark of his cabin. _Forewarned is forearmed._

He sighed, backing out of the archive files and deciding to forgo sleep in order to familiarize - or rather, refamiliarize; the more he learned, the more he was sure that he had been transported to his own past - himself with his current case files so he wouldn't be caught unawares by any questions asked of him. He wasn't too worried about the sleepless night - he'd endured many as a rebel (although Zeb had recently put a stop to them, as often as he could) and even more as an ISB agent. He just hoped he had the strength to do what might be required of him to return home. 

* * *

Zeb had forced himself not to look away when Hera sedated Alexsandr. Although he knew it was safer this way, it was harder to witness. The stunning at the temple had been a call made in the heat of battle. Now, he watched Alexsandr struggle against his restraints as Hera injected the sedative, as he quickly, but by no means instantly, faded into unconsciousness, his eyes rolling back, his mouth hanging open as he surrendered to oblivion. Zeb didn't know how long he stared at the motionless body of his mate before Sabine was pulling on his arm. "Come on, big guy," she said, as gently as he thought he'd ever heard her. "The droids'll take care of him. We've got to talk."

Turned out she didn't just mean with her and Hera. Looked like when Sabine had gone out to "put the ship on lockdown," she'd actually gone for backup. Right. They weren't even on a ship. So why had Hera...

"What's going on?" General Dodonna’s urgent question interrupted his thoughts.. General Draven was right behind him, his expression stormy. "Ms. Wren just informed us that Captain Kallus is being held prisoner right now?" For some reason, at that, everybody looked at Zeb, who held up his hands, almost helplessly. He told them the whole story, beginning with their walk over from Intelligence, where Alexsandr had been acting as normal, and ending with what appeared to be Agent Kallus waking up in the Alliance Medbay.

"Do you have this crystal?" said Draven, voice sharp. Zeb handed it over to him numbly.

“This is the one Alexsandr was wearing this morning. The one from the temple... disappeared."

Dodonna leaned in close as well, examining it. "Why didn't you get someone from Intelligence to come look at this before tampering with it?" demanded Draven.

Before Zeb could respond, Sabine stepped in. "I mean, we did, General," she pointed out. "Captain Kallus is in Intelligence!" She emphasized his rank slightly as she said it. "Like Zeb said, we weren't even going to touch it at all, but Kallus went into this... trance or something. He touched it before we could stop him."

"I think, given Captain Kallus and Captain Orrelios' _relationship_ ," said Draven through gritted teeth, "that it would have been more appropriate to bring someone else in."

"What's done is done, General," cut in Hera, sounding like she was about to lose her patience. "We can discuss how to handle similar situations going forward another time. Right now, we've got to decide what we are going to do with Captain Kallus before he wakes up again."

Draven mumbled an agreement and Dodonna nodded. "We'll have our people examine this crystal to start with," he said. "And send some more to look for the other crystal at the temple. Maybe they can figure out what caused this change and how to reverse it."

"Just don't-" blurted out Zeb. "Let them know to keep it intact. Please. General," he added. "In case it's the key to getting him back." Dodonna nodded, shooting Zeb a pitying smile. Zeb felt pitiable enough to not even be insulted by it.

"I'll pass along the message. In the meantime..."

"We need to do everything we can to keep this Kallus from learning of the Rebellion," interrupted Hera, inclining her head at Dodonna in apology. "However that crystal is doing it, this Kallus seems to be the man we knew four years or more ago. When we first joined Phoenix Cell, or even before. He might not even be aware a larger rebellion exists. We should keep him on the _Ghost_ , let the only beings he sees be me or the other Spectres." Dodonna and Draven nodded smartly at that. Zeb did the same, much less smartly, after a moment. He hadn't even thought of that. He felt like he couldn't process what he was hearing, that his mind and body was still trying to work through the shock of what was happening, and not succeeding.

"Agreed, General Syndulla," said Dodonna. "Let's move him there as soon as possible, then."

"We don't have a brig," pointed out Sabine. "Maybe we can set something up with ray shields in one of the cargo holds."

"Good idea," said Hera, waving an acknowledging hand at Generals Dodonna and Draven as they took their leave. "Go ahead and set that up." She turned to Zeb. "And as for you… you’ve had quite a shock, Zeb. You should go get some rest." Zeb shook his head.

"I'll help Sabine," he said. The thought of going back to his cabin alone right now was almost unbearable. "Give me something to do."

"I understand," said Hera. And she really, really did, thought Zeb.

"Well c'mon then, Zeb," said Sabine. "Maybe we can take the bed from Kal's bunk at the temple barracks. That way we're not taking it from someone else. Little more comfortable than sleeping on top of a crate or something, too."

"No," said Hera. "We should have a spare cot on the _Ghost_. We can't give Kallus any more clues about the base... and let's not go around advertising to his roommates that he's gone. With any luck, they'll think he's just sleeping on the _Ghost_."

"Fine," said Zeb halfheartedly. "I'll go get that." He nodded at Sabine. "You go get the ray shield rods." Sabine patted him on the shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Zeb. We've got some smart people on base. They'll figure out how to get him back."

Zeb looked back to where Alexsandr was tied up to a med table, unconscious. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I hope yer right."

* * *

Alexsandr made his weary way to the interrogation prep room. Even before his sleepless night, he had been up all day working his shift in intelligence back on Yavin, and even if his body didn't feel that weariness, his mind certainly did. He couldn't regret his long night - it had been extremely productive - but this interrogation was going to be hard enough without an added helping of fatigue.

Alexsandr's eyes roamed across his row of meticulously maintained equipment. The sight was achingly familiar. It turned his stomach. An array of tools, not to mention the IT-O droid sitting dormant on the worktop. Almost all dedicated to inflicting as much pain as possible. Mechanically, he walked over to the bench, mind turning over the best tools for this particular encounter. He'd put off the torture as long as possible, of course, and then he'd bring in the IT-O. Just the sight was sometimes enough to elicit a confession. And when it came to using the droid itself... well. There were methods he could use with that that didn't rely on pain. Maybe he could even neutralize the dosage of skirtopanol just before use…

He was deep in thought when his gaze fell upon a piece of equipment he'd used only sparely during his time as an Imperial. He stared at it, his thoughts racing. A memory erasure device. He traced his hand over the top.

It wasn't something that was useful, often. Usually, having your subject forget what they knew was the last thing you wanted. And when he was done with his subjects, whether they were being released, or, more usually, sent back to their cell, he wanted them to remember what had happened to them. To let the experience serve as a lesson as to what happened when you tried to defy the peace and order maintained by the empire. But occasionally, when a subject knew a little _too_ much, it had proven... expedient.

And right now, Alexsandr Kallus knew too much. He seemed to have traveled four years into the past, and so, assuming the future wouldn't change, knew of most of the current rebel cells and base locations, and every cell and base there would be for the next four years. Most major rebel players, ships, tactics, current and future. He'd been trained to resist torture, but he couldn't say for sure that he could never be broken. And he wasn't sure that he could hold up this charade forever. For the safety of the rebellion, everyone he loved…

He looked at the memory erasure device, dread filling his soul. He could become what they thought he was again. Erase the past four years. His memories of everything that now hadn't yet happened - the rebellion, the Spectres. Zeb. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Could he do it? Erase loving, being loved? Erase everything he'd worked for, suffered for the sake of the galaxy, the rebellion, for the sake of his family, his mate? Could he make himself go back to what he'd been, knowing now what he could be? He pressed a hand over his eyes, trying to stop the real tears that were now threatening.

Yes. He could do it. Would do it. Maybe even... had done it already. The missing week... could this have happened before? Had he already lived through the past four years once before and erased it?

He shook his head, brushed the tears from his eyes, That was something to figure out after this interrogation. Time was wasting. He'd have to be extra cautious not to arouse any suspicion for the next week.

He'd give himself a week. A week to try and figure out how to get back. And if he couldn't... He’d just have to trust Zeb, trust himself to make all the right decisions again. Maybe, Ashla willing... they could get back to where they'd been before he'd been so unceremoniously yanked away. And if they didn't make the right decisions this time...

_Don't think about that._

He took a deep breath, settled his features into his most condescending sneer. He was Captain Kallus of the Alliance, working undercover as Agent Kallus, ISB-021. Just like his years as Fulcrum. He knew how to do this. And right now, he had a job to do.

* * *

Zeb didn’t get back to his cabin until almost 0400 and didn’t sleep a wink that night. He was used to sleeping by himself; being with Alexsandr hadn’t changed that. Getting to spend the night with his mate was still the exception, not the rule. 

But usually when he slept alone, he knew that Alexsandr was safe back on Yavin IV or at least on a counsel-sanctioned mission, facing the kind of danger they all faced every single day. He wasn’t usually imprisoned in their cargo hold and acting like he was an Imperial agent. 

He tossed and turned until 0600, then decided he might as well get up and try to face the day. He dragged himself into the galley and started a pot of extremely strong caf, looked listlessly through the cupboards for something he could eat for breakfast. Their prisoner would need breakfast too, he realized. He hesitated for a moment, then got out just one plate - he didn’t think he could stomach anything this morning. He piled up Kallus’s plate with some of Alexsandr’s favorites, including some Ryl breakfast rolls that the two of them - but mostly Alexsandr - had made just two days before. 

Zeb smiled as he remembered. He’d probably been more of a nuisance than anything, getting in Sasha’s way and getting flour everywhere. But they'd been able to spend some time together and the rolls had turned out delicious in the end, of course, just like everything Alexsandr made… 

He sighed and pushed down the memory. He needed to keep focused.

He hesitated a moment, then returned to his cabin, retrieved one of the holonovels he knew Alexsandr had liked from their room. He passed over the datapad Alexsandr kept with a collection of all his favorites, not thinking that Alexsandr would put any sensitive information on it, but not putting it past him either. It would be sure to be heavily encrypted, but who better to break it than the man himself? He returned to the galley, placing the holonovel on the corner of the tray, and headed over to the cargo bay, finagling his way down with the tray with a hovercart they kept just for this purpose. Once down in the bay, tray in hand again, he made his way over to door to the smaller cargo bay where they were keeping Alexsandr- _Kallus_. He hesitated in front of the door for a moment before knocking on it with his elbow. "I'm coming in," he called. "You'd better be decent in there!" There was no response. He hit the release for the door with the same elbow, cursing as the tray shifted in his arms, and made his way inside. 

Even though Zeb knew he was going to be there, it was still jarring to see Kallus sitting in the makeshift brig he and Sabine had rigged up last night. Zeb brought the tray close, setting it down on a nearby hovercart. Even if Kallus hadn't heard him calling outside the door, he'd been anything but quiet on his way in, and Kallus still hadn't acknowledged his entry at all. 

Zeb examined the man in front of him through the wall of ray shields. His body, his hair, his clothes, all were those of Captain Alexsandr Kallus of the Alliance, but his posture, his facial expression... those were all Agent Kallus. He was sitting on the cot that Zeb had scrounged up from the _Phantom II_ , back up against the wall, eyes closed. His face was still twisted into that now unfamiliar scowl of his. The red light from the ray shields cast angry shadows on the man’s face, adding to the strangeness, the unfamiliarity of this man compared to the man Zeb had come to love. 

Zeb cleared his throat. Kallus didn't stir. 

"Kallus," he said, trying to project a confidence he didn't actually feel. "Agent Kallus." The man still didn't move. His eyes remained tightly shut.

"Karabast," he muttered under his breath. “Fine,” he said aloud. “No need to say anything. I brough’ ya some breakfast.” He retrieved the tray from the hovercart he’d set it on and placed it on the floor in front of Kallus’s cell, inside the bounds of the “airlock” he and Sabine had made just for this purpose. He fished the remote Sabine had given him out from his pocket and pressed one of the buttons. A set of ray shields fizzled into existence, imprisoning the tray. Another tap, and the wall separating Kallus from his tray disappeared. Kallus didn’t look like he was going to move anytime soon - probably waiting for Zeb to leave so he could inspect the food - so Zeb decided to make himself scarce. He didn’t exactly want to talk to Kallus like this anyway. He beat a hasty retreat. 

Once back in the lounge he hesitated, then checked the camera feed he and Sabine had set up the night before. The man was a prisoner, he should really know that he had no expectation of privacy, but… Zeb still felt a little guilty checking it. There was Kallus, yep, already inspecting the food. The picture wasn’t that clear, but Zeb could tell he had one of the breakfast rolls in hand and looked like he was… smelling it? 

Zeb’s stomach dropped. He remembered Alexsandr telling him something once, that Imperial officers weren’t supposed to eat anything but the ration bars or nutrient drinks the Empire provided them. Kallus cooked as a hobby, but had only been able to indulge about every six months or so, he’d told Zeb. Who knew how long it had been since Kallus had eaten real food, and now he had a veritable feast in front of him. 

All of a sudden, watching Kallus look so wrong was more than Zeb could bear. He turned away from the monitors, feeling suddenly lightheaded with fatigue. Maybe he'd go try to get some sleep after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Anath for letting me use lasana! 
> 
> Ky san an = where are you?  
> Na karer = answer me!


	4. Chapter 4

"Zeb, I know you're in there," Sabine yelled for the third time as she banged on his door. It was noon the day after Kal’s strange turn. Zeb wasn’t one to stay in bed this late, even after a late night. She was worried that Zeb was going to lose himself in his grief if he didn’t get out of that room. "Zeb!" She jumped back as the door hissed open.

"What?" growled Zeb. He scowled at her, arms crossed across his chest. He looked like he hadn't slept all night; there were deep bags under his eyes. She thought that, under his fur, he looked a little pale.

"You look terrible," she said bluntly. Zeb rolled his eyes. 

"Glad I look as terrible as I feel," he said, turning away, though he left the door open. Sabine peeked around him. All the sheets and covers from the bottom bunk where Zeb usually slept had been hauled up to the top bunk where they were piled up like a nest. She sighed.

"I know it's rough, bud, but you can't just stay in here all day. I wondered -- if you wanted to go back to that temple with me. I know, I know," she said, raising her hands at Zeb's hurt glare. "I know that's probably the last thing you want to think about, but Draven and Dodonna asked me to go with the team to look around since I was there when it happened. It might be good for you to go too, especially since you've got better vision than we do."

Zeb uncurled a little from his hunched stance. "All righ'. Just gimme a minute to..." he gestured at himself.

Sabine nodded. "I'll go make us some caf."

They walked over in silence. Sabine wanted to say something to try to make Zeb feel better, but she didn't know what she could say, beyond what she and Hera had tried to tell him all the way back to the  _ Ghost _ last night, mostly "it wasn't your fault." She didn't think Zeb had accepted that message. She didn't know if she could in that situation either, to be honest.

Finally, they reached the temple they'd been clearing out that fateful day - was it really just yesterday? It felt like so much longer. A couple of beings from Intelligence - currently the only two beings on base besides the Spectres and High Command that knew what had happened to Kal - had apparently just arrived and were in the middle of setting up flood lights.

"Captain Orrelios," called out one of them from the far side of the room, waving over at them. It was a human woman - Jaelia, Sabine thought her name was. "Mind giving me a hand over here? I can't get this light as high up as I would like."

It took them a while to get the room illuminated - it was big, and even in the early afternoon, only a few weak rays of sun shone through the skylight. Once lit, the room appeared a lot less mysterious and frightening than it had the day before, and Sabine felt herself relax a bit. 

Now that she could see it more clearly, Sabine noticed something odd about the room. Although generally closed to the elements, there was still an accumulation of small organic debris and dust in the room, as was to be expected in a structure this old. But the area around the pedestal was strangely clean. The dust had been disturbed by the scuffle with Kallus last night, as well as the work she and the others had done this morning, but when she looked closely, she could see clean areas meeting dusty ones delineated, in the undisturbed areas, by a perfect curve. There was, she thought, definitely some weird stuff going on with this crystal. Jedi weird, maybe?

"All right everybody," called out Jaelia. "Let's see if we can't find this crystal. Standard search pattern. Everybody pick a corner."

They worked in silence. Sabine couldn't see Zeb at first, and focused closely on her corner of the room, but as they got closer to the middle and it was becoming increasingly clear that there was probably no crystal to be found, she spared a few moments here to glance his direction, try to see how he was holding up. His face was inscrutable. She hoped she'd made the right decision, having him tag along.

Their search turned out to be a fruitless one.

"I just don't understand," said Sabine, rubbing her back and stretching, sore from spending so long bent over looking at the ground. "Where could it have gone?"

"You're sure Captain Kallus didn't make it out of the room?" asked the other being, a Rodian that Sabine had never met before. Their eyes were narrowed in thought as they scanned the room. "Could he have thrown it out into the hallway?"

Zeb shook his head, pointed to the corner of the room where he'd caught up to Kal and wrestled him to allow Sabine to stun him. It was at least a few meters away from the nearest doorway. "We can check the hallway anyway, but Captain Kallus never got further than that. He might've thrown it, but I didn' see it..."

"We'll check in a moment," interrupted Jaelia. "I want to take a look at this pedestal," she said, beginning to approach it, beckoning the others to follow as well.

Sabine piped up now. She'd spent quite a while examining it while Zeb had gone to fetch Kallus yesterday.

"It's got markings all along the edge, she said, walking up to it. She stretched out her hand to point out the markings to the others, but Zeb grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could touch it.

"Don't," he said, sounding panicky. "Don't touch it. I know the crystal's gone, but I still have a bad feeling about all of this..."

Sabine bit down her urge to laugh off Zeb's cautiousness. The thing had been glowing yesterday and now it wasn't. Clearly, whatever power it had, it didn't have anymore. But she didn't exactly want to take any chances with her own life either, and she understood why Zeb was so bent out of shape about it. "You're right," she said, giving him a tight half smile. She extended her hand again, stopping short of touching the surface of the pedestal.

"See here?" The markings were carved into the stone, and, like the floor, were oddly pristine and sharp for how long the pedestal had apparently been there. Even with little exposure to the elements, Sabine thought they should look a little more worn than they were. It wasn't like the room was airtight. Each figure was a closed or partially open rectangle with different combinations of sharp lines and curves contained within.

"They appear too random to be merely decorative," the rodian said, peering closely at them. "Asymmetrical. I suspect a writing method of some kind, although I couldn't hope to know if it's phonetic, syllabic, logographic...."

"Or what language it could represent," interrupted Jaelia. "If it even is writing..."

"Could this be some kind of Jedi thing?" asked Zeb, looking thoughtful. "Might explain all the glowin'."

"Wait, not Jedi," she said suddenly, though she'd just thought the same thing herself, moments ago. A memory had just come back to her, something that Kanan had said when they'd first arrived on Yavin IV. A feeling of dread stole through her. "This used to be a Sith temple complex..."

"Sith," said Zeb, his face twisting into a scowl. "Like Maul."

"And the Inquisitors," added Sabine. "And Vader." Twin puzzled looks on Jaelia and the rodian's faces turned to twin frowns.

"I don't like the sound of that at all," said Jaelia.

"Yeh, and we're a little short on Jedi to help us out here," said Zeb, his face dark. "Kanan, Ezra, Ahsoka... I can't think of a single one left."

"I think I might be able to help with that," the rodian said slowly. "I don't think there are any in the actual Alliance, but I know of a couple who might be able to help us out. Come with me to the communications, and we'll see if we can't get in touch with them."

Sabine looked over at Zeb, one eyebrow raised, communicating silently - _ do you know anything about this? _ Zeb just shrugged and shook his head. Sabine returned the shrug and addressed the rodian. 

"Back to base it is, then," she said. "Lead the way." 

* * *

Before he made his way to the interrogation room, Alexsandr reported to the bridge. To not do so would look suspicious. Admiral Konstantine was waiting for him, and started up on his diatribe the second Alexsandr got close enough. He hadn't forgotten just how brusque everyone was in the Empire, but it was still somehow a bit of a shock to experience it again. 

"Why did you detain this... creature, Agent? She's just a peasant! The likelihood that she knows anything about this rebel cell -"

"Is low. I know, Admiral. But she may know something, and in the meantime, she may prove useful bait." Admiral Konstantine looked skeptical, and rightfully so. Principled or not, the Spectres couldn't rescue every being held hostage by the empire. But they would likely come if Fulcrum told them to come.

"The Spectres were responsible for her capture," said Alexsandr, letting his trusty Imperial scowl overtake his face. "I'm certain they'll come back for her. These rebels are sentimental and weak. They'll always try to help those that helped them."  _ Luckily for me, _ he thought.

"Fine," the Admiral said dismissively. "You'd better be right. In the meantime, try to get any information you can from the prisoner in case your plan fails."

"It won't," he said, hoping that he wasn't being more cocky or flippant than the real Kallus would have been at this time. He was finding that it was more difficult than he'd thought, reverting to his Imperial self. At one point, that persona had been him, and he'd found it hard to drop in some ways once he'd joined the rebellion. But it seemed a few years with the rebellion, with Zeb, had softened him, and now trying to slip back into it was like putting on someone else's shoe. It might fit, but it jarred uncomfortably in places where it had molded to form the curves of someone else's foot. Maybe Zeb was right. Maybe he had changed more than he'd thought.

Konstantine regarded him coolly. "See that it doesn't, Agent."

* * *

It took almost an hour, but Tseeya - that was the rodian from Intelligence's name, it turned out - finally managed to connect them to former Jedi Knight Cere Junda, now of the Stinger Mantis. A ship that, it turned out, was practically chock-full of Force users.

"Three out of five of the crew, four if you don't count the droid," said Cere wryly to Sabine's astonished reaction to the bombshell she'd casually dropped. "Well, sort of. I'm far from a Jedi Knight these days, and Merrin -- I still don't quite understand the Nightsisters' relationship to the force."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, did you say Nightsisters?" asked Sabine, incredulous. "Like the creepy ghost ladies on Dathomir? I thought they were all killed! And aren't they, y'know, evil?"

"All but one, to both of your questions." said Cere. "Depending on how you define "evil." I'd love to hear about how you know about them. Not exactly common knowledge, especially these days."

"Another time," said Zeb, the first thing he'd said in a while. "We've got sort of an urgent matter. Jaelia?"

"We found some kind of... inscription in a Sith temple," said Jaelia, not looking at the hologram in favor of tapping away at her datapad. "We were hoping you might be able to translate for us - or find someone else who can. I'm sending a holo of it over to you now."

"A Sith temple? What's the Alliance doing there?"

"We've had a base here for years now," chimed in Tseeya. "Until now, nothing bad has come of it. The Sith are long gone from it."

"I think you'll find that the Sith tend to linger in a place, even after they're physically gone," said Cere, narrowing her eyes. "All right. I just got your transmission. "

They waited in silence as she examined the image. "This is the Sith script, all right," she said. "I recognize it, but I can't speak the language, or read the writing." She was silent for a moment, apparently deep in thought. She looked up at their group. The sharpness in her gaze was evident, even through the holo-image. "You've gone to a lot of trouble to contact me about this. Why is it so important?"

Sabine looked over at Tseeya. "This line secure?" He nodded at her. "We found this inscription on a pedestal in one of the temples. There was a crystal on it as well. One of our people he... heard something, when we were in the room with it. Went into a sort of trance. He was a defector, and when he touched it he, well... reverted to his Imperial self. We want to know if this inscription has some sort of...clue, to turn him back." She spared a glance over at Zeb. His shoulders were unnaturally straight, his face grim. She could tell he was trying hard to keep it together.

"Definitely sounds like some sort of Sith artifact," said Cere. Out of the corner of her eyes, Sabine saw Zeb stiffen. "What planet are you on, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sabine looked over at Tseeya again. "Go ahead," they said. "We can trust her. The crew of the Mantis isn't technically part of the Alliance, but we've worked together often enough in the past." 

"That's right," said Cere. "We visited your Dantooine base a couple of times. We’re what you might call… freelancers.” 

Sabine nodded. "We're on the fourth moon in the Yavin system. The temple belonged to the Massassi, if that helps."

"Massassi," said Cere, closing her eyes, appearing deep in thought.

"A Sith artifact," said Zeb, now clutching at the edge of the holo-table so tightly Sabine thought it might actually break. "That's... evil, right? Did it... turn him evil?"

Cere began to speak, but seemingly ignored Zeb's question. "The Massassi were one of the original Sith species, whom the force-users the Jedi know as the Sith subjugated for their own ends." Her eyes were closed and her voice sounded as if she was speaking from far away. "Despite what the Jedi have always taught, the Sith have not always been... evil. The crystal you found...." She opened her eyes, focused them sharply on Zeb. "The Sith made many artifacts. The dark side of the force powers them, but that does not necessarily mean they are intrinsically evil." 

Zeb did not appear overly appeased at this, but he did release his death grip on the table. "Right," he said, backing away. "Right."

"So do you have a way to translate it?" asked Jaelia. "Do you have any... connections you can use?"

Cere narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I think so," she said. "Our Nightsister may be able to read it, and if not, I think I know someone else who might be able to help."

"Please hurry, if you can," blurted out Sabine. "I hate to ask that but... Captain Kallus - the defector - we’re worried he might be in danger."

Cere was silent a moment. "I'll see what I can do," she said. "May the Force be with you." The call ended. 

A long silence followed. 

"Well, it's something at least," said Jaelia finally. "I think it's high time that Tseeya and I got started analyzing this crystal. We'll let you all know as soon as we find something." 

"Great, thanks," said Sabine, after just slightly too long of a beat. Zeb was staring off into space. "You okay, big guy?" she asked gently. 

Slowly, Zeb shook his head. "I - well. I need to --" Abruptly, he turned and left. 

Sabine sighed as she watched him go. "You guys need any help?" she asked hopefully. She didn't know what else to do, and she didn't really want to go back to the  _ Ghost _ . But Tseeya just shook their head. 

"We've got it under control from here," they said. "You should head back to your ship. I'm sure General Syndulla has something for you to do.” 

"You’re probably right," she said. She dashed off a quick salute and headed out into the sun. Time to head back to the  _ Ghost _ . That name was getting more appropriate every day, she thought darkly. Hopefully this latest "ghost" they'd acquired wouldn't be a permanent one. 

* * *

It was standard enough to start an interrogation with an interview, so that was what Alexsandr did. He couldn't go easy on her, as he'd like to do - when this all went tits-up, as it was sure to do, he knew that all the interrogation footage would be closely examined. He must not let this interrogation deviate too strongly from any other he'd done. But he could try his best to draw out the less... advanced techniques as long as he could. 

He entered the room. His subject was cuffed to a chair as he'd requested. Just the move from chair to interrogation table, the terror of implied impending torture was sometimes enough to elicit information, and so Kallus usually started out his interrogations with his subjects in a less threatening interrogation room, a fact he was grateful for now. Every stage of the interrogation before resorting to torture was extra time for the  _ Ghost _ to arrive. Alexsandr could probably reasonably draw this interrogation out for a day or two before getting to that point.

"Tabora Zaa," he said, affecting disinterest, though in reality he felt anything but. He recognized the togruta’s name, now that he saw it. There could be no doubt that this was the same being that was currently on Yavin IV in his own time. "Here under suspicion of assisting known criminals to evade detainment by the Empire. He took a seat across from her, affecting nonchalance, crossing one leg over the other. "Why don't you tell me your version of events."

Tabora didn't say a word. Kallus could see her trembling, ever so slightly.

"Not in a talkative mood, I see. Fine." He pressed a button on his datapad, entirely for show. "Let's go over the events as I uncovered from my previous investigation on the ground."

He affected reading from the data pad, although every word was memorized. "The Spectres landed on the surface of Kiros three standard rotations ago, ten klicks away from your village. They stayed two nights, refueling, gathering supplies, and trying to press-gang local citizens into their cause." He observed her reaction in his peripheral vision - her lips tightened, but she said nothing - before turning to look straight at her. "Which, of course, your people rightfully resisted." She glared at him. He stared impassively back at her for a few moments before turning back to his datapad.

"The ISD Lawbringer arrived in the Kiros system thirty-six standard hours ago, and thanks to a tip from an anonymous loyal citizen, narrowed down the location of the rebel cell and their ship, and moved in to detain them. Troopers from the three-forty-second Legion had the crew surrounded, but at the last minute, the Spectres evaded arrest and fled the sector." He turned his gaze back on the woman. Alexsandr had to admit, she put up a good front, but he could see the cracks in her armor. She'd fall to him eventually. Hopefully the Spectres would arrive before that point. "What I want to know is how they evaded capture -" and here he paused, turning the full power of his penetrating gaze on the woman. The gaze he'd perfected over the years to let his subjects know: I'm the one in control here. Even if you have no information of value, I will take you down. The togruta tried to hold his gaze and failed, averting her eyes. "How they evaded capture... and where they are now."

The woman didn't respond. She was far from broken, but Alexsandr could tell that his specially trained and meticulously implemented interrogation techniques were starting to get to her. He'd kept her waiting in a cold cell for over eight hours. She'd been sitting in this room for two, waiting for him to arrive, thinking about everything she'd ever heard about how horrible interrogation by an ISB agent could be. Anybody would start to be a little shaken up. Everybody was. And he was only just getting started.

"I have three eyewitness accounts here," he said, gesturing at his datapad once more. He leaned back in his chair, a carefully affected nonchalance. "That you personally helped the Spectres escape." This was a complete lie, a common tactic in an interrogation like this. If the subject knew it was a lie, it was their word against the interrogator’s, and their protests only seemed to strengthen the interrogator's case. If they didn't, they were that much more convinced that their interrogator had evidence of their guilt. Tabora still said nothing, but Alexsandr noted her breathing speed up. He was beginning to think she may actually have helped the Spectres escape. Agent Kallus would be internally celebrating right now. Captain Kallus was a little dismayed that he'd captured someone who potentially had secrets to spill. If he'd just had a little longer to think, back on the ground…

"I understand," he said, his voice a little more gentle. The interrogation technique was so familiar to him, so easy to fall into. The faked understanding in order to make the subject believe you were sympathetic to their plight. Calculated to elicit a confession and information. But right now he meant every word he was saying, even as his heart twisted at the manipulation. "The rebels seem kind, don't they. They make you feel special, like you can be a part of something bigger than yourself. Anyone in your position would have done what you did."

Sometimes, he would see subjects nodding at this point, eager to latch onto the out he'd seemed to have given them. This one didn't take the bait. She continued to stare at Alexsandr, unspeaking.

"Of course," he continued, his voice going low. "No matter how kind they may seem, how sympathetic they may act, they are dangerous criminals, and colluding with them is still a crime of the highest order. Punishable by time in the spice mines... or death." He paused to let that sink in. "I know you're an upstanding Imperial citizen, who got roped into something that was over your head. If you have any information about these rebels, any at all, we may be able to commute your sentence." Still, the togruta remained silent. Alexsandr gave a showy sigh. "I see," he said. He made a show of making a mark on his datapad. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the togruta’s hands trembling. He yearned to give up the game, let her know she was in safe hands here. But him maintaining this charade would mean more suffering in the short term, and much less in the long term. "Let's go over the eyewitness accounts that place you at the scene of the crime..."

Alexsandr managed to make this initial, more sympathetic questioning stretch out another three hours, despite the Togruta never speaking a word. He was torn - on the one hand, he didn't want her to give him any information that he'd then have to pass on. On the other, if she'd been even a little more cooperative, answering  _ any _ of his questions, he could have stretched it out, probably another six hours. By refusing to talk at all, she was forcing Alexsandr's hand. He'd have to begin the next step of the interrogation.

"You will tell me everything you know, Ms. Zaa," he said, still keeping a sympathetic tone. "Sooner or later. How you tell it to me is entirely up to you." Tabora still didn't back down, maintaining her icy stare, although Alexsandr could see she was struggling through her fear and fatigue. He sighed. "You leave me no choice then. Troopers!" The door whoosed open as the complement of guards that had been standing outside the door marched in. "Get this creature in position for phase two. I'll return in a few hours."

"Wait!" he would often hear at this point. He heard no such thing this time. He curled his face into a scowl and swept out of the room.

* * *

Zeb knew he shouldn’t go see Kallus again, but he found himself almost helplessly drawn to the cargo bay once back on the  _ Ghost _ . He felt, deep inside, that his Alexsandr wasn’t lost forever. That if he could just get through to this Kallus, maybe he’d snap out of whatever had happened to him.….

Kallus was sitting on the bunk in exactly the same position that Zeb had left him. If it weren’t for the fact that the plate was practically licked clean, the holonovel was gone, and the tray had been placed back in the “airlock,” Zeb would have thought he hadn’t moved at all. 

“Hey… Agent Kallus,” said Zeb, a little unsure how to address the man. Kallus didn’t respond. Zeb sighed, pulled the remote out of his pocket and reset the cell, kicking the tray out of the way to be dealt with later. 

"I know you can hear me," he said. "I just wanna talk." 

"Agent Alexsandr Kallus," said Kallus smoothly, not moving a muscle besides the ones needed for speech. "I-S-B-oh-two-one." 

“Right,” said Zeb. He pulled the nearest hovercart over so that he was a half a meter away from the ray shield in front of Kallus and settled heavily onto it. “You - ah - ya feelin’ okay?” 

"Agent Alexsandr Kallus," said the man again, that smooth tone digging deep into Zeb's limited supply of patience and making him snarl. "I-S-B-oh-two-one." 

"Cut the kark, Kallus," he growled. "I'm not kriffin' interrogatin' ya!" 

Kallus finally opened his eyes. "Then what do you call this?" His sneer was clearly audible in his voice. 

Zeb pushed down his annoyance, affected a wry grin. Shrugged. "A friendly chat?"Kallus scoffed. "Ah yes. A friendly chat from inside a cell. With one of my most... annoying enemies." 

"But most handsome, right?"

Kallus rolled his eyes. "Hardly." 

"Aw, Kal," pouted Zeb. "I'm hurt." Kallus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

"What are you getting at, Orrelios?" he asked, the exasperation clear in his voice. 

Zeb grinned. "Nothin'. Told ya, I just wanna chat. Friendly-like." 

Kallus narrowed his eyes. "Well if this is a friendly chat, then I can ask you questions as well, hmm?" 

Zeb spread his arms in front of him. "Be my guest." 

Kallus looked straight into Zeb's eyes. His eyes were still narrowed, but a small smile now played at his lips. "What planet is this rebel base located on?" Zeb tried hard to keep his face impassive. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or not.

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout," he said, trying to maintain the banter vibe he'd worked to establish at the outset. "We're on the  _ Ghost _ ." 

Kallus's sneer widened. "The  _ Ghost _ seems to have quite a large medical bay, then. Almost the size of the whole ship. Very interesting.”

_ Karabast _ . Zeb was pretty sure he wasn't keeping his face as neutral as he'd have liked. "We're planetside right now, obviously. We had ya taken to the nearest medical facility." 

"On which planet, may I ask?" shot back Kallus. "Surely you wouldn't mind telling me if there's no rebel base there." Don't show any hesitation, Orrelios. "We're on Balmorra." The first planet that came to his mind. The home planet of Kallus's parents, and Zeb knew for a fact that Kallus hadn't ever stepped foot on it. If Kallus was surprised by this, he didn't let it show on his face. 

"Interesting weather they're having," said Kallus. "Very....  _ humid _ . And it seems-" he made a show of sniffing the air "-that they've done something about that notorious pollution of theirs since I was last... awake. "  _ Karabast _ , thought Zeb for the second time in as many minutes. "And how long has that been? Months? Years?" 

"I don't know how to answer that," said Zeb honestly, ignoring Kallus's observations for now. "We didn't kidnap you, if that's what yer tryin' to imply." 

"Oh, really," retorted Kallus. "Then how did I get here?" 

Zeb mulled over how he wanted to answer, deciding eventually to just lay all his cards out on the table. Alexsandr had tried to teach him some interrogation techniques, in order to resist them as much as anything, but it hadn't really stuck. 

"Ya joined us," he said, simply. "Joined the Spectres. And now... I dunno what changed. You touched a… crystal and wen’ all weird. Brain damage, I thought, but nothin' showed up in the scans." 

Kallus scoffed. "You'll have to do better than that, Orrelios," he said. '”Touched a crystal and wen’ all weird?” He imitated him mockingly. “Please. And I would never defect from the Empire. Ever."

"I think it's my turn for a question," said Zeb, ignoring this last. Kallus didn’t seem to be ready to hear the truth. "What's the last time you saw me?" 

"Really?" sneered Kallus. "That's the best you've got for me, then? You seem to think very highly of yourself, Orrelios." Zeb shrugged. " Fine. Seelos." 

Zeb closed his eyes, thinking back. A good four years ago. Before Bahryn, as he'd expected. It didn't make it any less shocking to hear. A fresh wave of despair washed over him. Four years of progress. Two years of friendship, a year and a half of sex, and just about six standard months since they'd both admitted they wanted to be something more than friends with benefits. All gone in the blink of an eye. Kallus' voice eventually shook him out of his pondering; he realized he'd been silent for far longer than he should. 

"My turn, Orrelios," said Kallus. He was gazing at Zeb, the look on his face undecipherable. "Why do you call me Sasha?" Zeb felt the muscles in his throat tighten. 

"You asked me to. After you joined - after you left the Empire, we became good friends." 

"Friends. Of course." That gaze hadn't wavered. "Very  _ good _ friends, I suppose." 

Kallus' tone was mocking. Zeb couldn't find it in himself to match it with his own snark. 

"The best," he said. He felt tears prick at his eyes. He continued, and to his eternal mortification, his voice cracked a little. "The very best." All of a sudden, he couldn't take it anymore. 

"Well, it was very nice to chat," he said, rising, banishing the tears from his eyes and his voice.

"They will come for me, you know," said Kallus to his retreating back. "The Empire." Zeb didn't say anything to that. What could he say? Kallus was wrong, more wrong than he could even know. He made his way out in silence. 

Hera and Sabine were sitting at the lounge table, talking in low voices as he climbed back onto the main level. They stopped speaking abruptly as he entered. 

"You okay, Zeb?" asked Hera, her voice gentle. Too gentle. Zeb squeezed his eyes shut. 

"'M fine," he said tersely. He didn't stop to talk and chat, as they so obviously wanted him to. He didn't think he could take their pity. 

He shut himself in his cabin and stared at his bed, almost swaying on his feet with exhaustion. He hadn't slept since the last night Alexsandr had been himself, almost thirty-six hours ago. 

He collapsed on his bunk and closed his eyes. Despite his inner turmoil, sleep claimed him almost immediately and he drifted off into troubled dreams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually did kind of a ton of research about police interrogation techniques... some crazy stuff in there. This is based off the reid technique... kind of imperial seeming, if you ask me.


	5. Chapter 5

Zeb ended up barely sleeping again that night; nightmares of futile combat against Agent Kallus and false dreams of Alexsandr’s safe return haunted him in equal measure, waking him periodically throughout the night. He’d finally fallen asleep for the sixth time late in the morning, when he was jolted awake yet again, this time by his com link going off where it was still clipped to his belt after he’d fallen into bed. He fumbled about for it and finally answered on the fifth chime, mentally shaking himself before he spoke to make sure he didn’t sound like he’d just been woken up. “Captain Orrelios.” 

“Captain Orrelios, it’s Lieutenant Tseeya.” That had Zeb on his feet in an instant. 

“What’s going on?” 

“If you and Ms. Wren aren’t too busy, we’d like to meet with you in the Intelligence lab. I think we’ve made some headway with Captain Kallus’s crystal.” 

“We’ll be right there.” Filled with a nervous energy, Zeb leapt out of the jumpsuit he’d put on what felt like a lifetime ago, when he’d been getting ready with Alexsandr his last morning and pulled on a fresh one, then stumbled out into the hallway. “Sabine!” He yelled. “You’d better be here!” 

Sabine stuck her head out of the lounge into the hallway. “I’m here!” 

“Come on, we’re going to Intelligence,” he said, tugging on her arm a bit to get her moving in the right direction. She didn’t need any more encouragement than he had, abandoning whatever she’d been tinkering with in an instant to follow him out. “I think they’ve figured out something about the crystal.“

“Already?” she asked. “What’d they find?” she practically had to run to keep up with him. 

“Dunno,” said Zeb tersely. “Let’s get over there and find out.” 

Both Tseeya and Jaelia were waiting for them in the Intelligence conference room, along with General Draven. 

“Any change in Captain Kallus?” asked Draven, brusque as ever. Zeb shook his head, trying to temper his impatience with the line of questioning. “Still actin’ like an Imp,” he said. “And we’ve talked a bit. His brain’s back four years ago. Said the last time he remembered seein’ me was on Seelos, back when we’d barely even joined Phoenix squadron.” 

“Interesting,” said Jaelia. “Considering what we found when we analyzed this crystal of his.” 

“Well, let’s hear it then,” barked Draven. “Time’s wasting.” 

Tseeya stepped forward, crystal in hand. He tapped a few buttons on his console that brought up what appeared to be schematics of the crystal that Zeb thought he couldn't hope to even begin to understand, but Draven and Sabine leaned right in to examine them as Tseeya started to speak. “We ran every test we could think of that didn't require taking samples,” they said. “We analyzed the structure with sonic imaging, emissions from the whole EM spectrum... nothing. We finally found something though... two tachyon trails originating from the center. One leading to Captain Kallus on the Ghost and the other... appearing to travel back in... time.

"Back in time?" Draven’s voice was sharp, on edge. Zeb felt like he was reeling. Did that mean... that Kallus had come from the past? And did that mean that his Alexsandr was in the past right now, connected to this... what had the lieutenant called it? Tachyon beam??

"Kallus... is from the past," he said, numbly. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. "Could... could our Alexsandr be on the other end of the trail? Could we bring him back?"

Lieutenant Tseeya shared a glance with Jaelia. "It seems likely that Captain Kallus is on the other end, yes. As for getting him back… There are things we could try, but we couldn't guarantee that any of them would work. We might accidentally sever the connection and trap Captain Kallus wherever - whenever he is.” 

Zeb’s heart felt like it froze in his chest. He barely heard Draven’s next words. “I want you two to make getting Captain Kallus back your top priority. Not only is his Imperial doppelganger a potential security risk, so is our Kallus, back in the past with a whole head of Alliance knowledge. We’ve got to figure out how to get him back.” 

“The text on the pedestal,” said Sabine slowly, the first thing she’d said since reaching Intelligence. “We still don’t know what it says, but we know this is some sort of… Force artifact. Maybe there’s some kind of - I don’t know - test that Kallus has to pass.” 

Draven sighed at this. “Give me strength,” he muttered. “Force test?” Sabine shrugged. 

“I lived with two Jedi for almost three years. You see a lot of weird stuff.” 

Draven pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly having to factor the whims of the force into his data analysis was not very agreeable to him. Zeb could sympathize. 

“Tseeya,” said Zeb suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “What if… what if Kallus needs to be touchin’ the crystal for it to work? Maybe he’s stuck here because he’s away from it.” Tseeya frowned, appearing to consider that. 

“It’s possible,” they said slowly. “And it’s certainly worth a try. If that can fix the problem--” 

“Try it, Captain Orrelios,” said Draven. Even though he wasn’t directly in Draven’s chain of command, Zeb knew he’d been given an order. Tseeya held out the crystal to him, and Zeb accepted it, slipping it over his head. “Let’s hope that Kallus has passed whatever test the Force had for him.” 

\-----

Tabora struggled against the troopers as they manhandled her out of her chair into a standing position and carted her through a door to an adjoining room. She’d thought the previous two rooms had been intimidating, but this room was… terrifying, right out of a horror holo-drama. A large interrogation table, tilted at about a seventy-degree angle, dominated the room. The harsh spotlight illuminating the table reflected off the ostentatious wrist and ankle blinders, making her squint in the otherwise complete darkness. The sight of the thing made her heart pound harder than it already had been, made her breath come even quicker. 

The troopers herded her toward the table, resisting her pushing back against them, her digging in her heels with ease. 

“No!” The word burst from her lips without her conscious control. She’d been trying to not say a single word, but now that tooka cat was out of the bag, and the fear at the sight of the table and what it might mean for her was starting to overcome her resolve, up until now only slightly weakened by the rest of the interrogation. “NO!” 

Tabora considered herself fairly strong, but the troopers lifted her onto the table with no difficulty at all despite her desperate struggling. 

“No,” she cried again. “Stop!” unable to come up with anything more eloquent than that most primal plea for mercy as each limb was forced into place and secured. Once she’d been totally immobilized, one of the troopers pulled a large cross-arm across her whole body. It snapped into place with a resonating  _ clang _ . 

For the first time since she’d been captured, it started to really sink in that she  _ really _ might not get out of this, ever. 

She managed to keep the threatening tears at bay until the stormtroopers left, but even knowing that her tormentor was probably watching her over holo-cam didn’t help her stave them off entirely. 

Tabora had never been a fearful being, but the fear she felt now threatened to overwhelm her. Fear of pain. Fear of death. Fear of a life spent in servitude. A life without her parents, her sisters. Of a life without her wife. 

_ Sya _ , she thought, but managed to not say aloud, not wanting to give her enemies any more ammunition against her. They’d only been married two months. The galaxy was in bad shape, and looking worse every day, but Tabora knew they’d make it through, that they could face anything together. Or she  _ had _ known. 

She shivered, the cold metal of the table almost feeling like it was burning against her exposed arms and calves. 

How long would that monster make her wait this time?  _ Agent Kallus _ . Just the thought of his face turned her stomach.    
The man himself was a mystery. She thought she sensed something in him, a reluctance, a regret. It didn’t make her any more forgiving of his actions; if anything, it made her  _ less.  _ To realize how wrong what you were doing was, and  _ do it anyway _ … reprehensible. 

The helpless tears slowed, then stopped. She got the feeling that this long wait in this cold room was supposed to demoralize her, break her. But it just gave her time to collect herself, steel herself for what was to come. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, composing herself, sinking into the meditative state her father had taught her to achieve when she was very young. She couldn’t get as deep as she’d like, here in this room, but she could at least find her center, prepare for what was to come. 

An image of Kallus’s eyes filled with that strange pain, his mouth pinched in disgust - at himself, she knew somehow - seemed to float in front of her. Cowardly and despicable as she found it, the man really didn’t seem to want to go through with this. Maybe that was going to be her ticket out of here. The thought let her sink deeper into her meditation, and she started to plan.

\-----

Kallus lay on his bunk in his makeshift prison cell on the  _ Ghost _ . Outwardly, he knew he looked placid, still, but his mind was churning. 

He still hadn’t figured out how the rebels had got him here, what they’d done to him, what their endgame was. It seemed to him that he truly hadn’t been their prisoner before he’d regained consciousness. The Spectres had seemed genuinely surprised when he’d fought them back at that temple, or whatever it was. They hadn’t been prepared to have to imprison him, and they didn’t seem to want any information from him. So why go to all this trouble? 

He also knew he had lost some time, but how much time? Having been “awake” for a few days now and getting more acquainted with his body made him think that he’d been out quite some time. One leg had been consistently achy and stiff, no matter how much stretching he did or how he positioned himself, suggesting a chronic condition. There was new weight around his middle, but his clothes fit well, suggesting that it wasn’t a temporary fluctuation. Unfamiliar but healed scars were scattered across his body. All the evidence pointed to this “lost” period having lasted at least a year, if not longer.

But  _ why _ ? It all kept coming back to this one question, and Kallus didn’t have any kind of answer to it. 

He supposed he should keep focused on the more pressing question: how was he going to escape? 

As if in answer to his question, the door to the hangar bay whoosed open. Kallus narrowed his eyes but tried to keep his expression neutral as he saw the being in the doorway. Orrelios. 

From the very beginning, Kallus had suspected that there was something going on between the lasat and this older version of himself. That suspicion had only grown the longer he’d spent with him. Whether this… relationship was something that had been mutually agreed upon, he had no idea. It didn't matter. Either way, it could be exploited. Perhaps he could lure the lasat to his cell alone, overpower him to get his hands on the remote control to deactivate the ray shields. If he could just manage to get out of this cell, he felt confident in his ability to escape from whatever planet he’d ended up on. He arranged himself a bit more provocatively on his bunk - nothing lewd, nothing too obvious. He needed to collect some data. 

He hastily grabbed the holonovel Orrelios had brought him - a surprisingly decent one- and pretended to be reading. He felt a pang of annoyance when he heard Sabine Wren enter the room as well. An unforeseen complication, but one he could hopefully work around. 

He pretended to be deeply absorbed in the holonovel, looking up only when the Spectres had been standing outside his cell for quite a few seconds. He was careful to keep his facial expression neutral and maybe even a little flirtatious. He suppressed a victorious grin when he saw Orrelios’s expression. There was sadness there, to be sure, but also an obvious hunger. 

“Orrelios,” he said, pitching his voice in his lowest register. “Ms. Wren.” He didn’t say anything else. If he too blatantly flirted, Orrelios would probably become suspicious, but if Kallus acted too much like himself, he’d shut down. Best to limit what he said as best he could. 

“Stay righ’ there,” the lasat said, his voice a growl. “I’m comin’ in.” 

Kallus tried to keep his expression the same, but his heart started to pound. Would it really be this easy? Maybe he couldn’t overpower or outright seduce Orrelios with the Mandalorian right there, but he could so much more easily begin to sow the seeds of his escape plan if Orrelios was here with him. 

“Oh?” said Kallus, keeping his tone even. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Orrelios ignored him and stepped into the exchange area. Wren activated the wall behind Orrelios, then deactivated the wall between Orrelios and himself.

“Don’t try anything funny,” said Wren, keeping the ray shield remote clutched tight in one hand. The other hand she rested very obviously on her blaster. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Kallus easily, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

The lasat hesitated before stepping closer. Now that he was looking for it, Kallus could see how his brainwashed rebel self could sleep with this beast. Orrelios was fit, muscular, arms and legs fairly bulging, and who knew what delights hid beneath that drab jumpsuit. He was an imposing presence, although at the moment he looked unsure, almost timid. He looked down at Kallus with something like… apprehension. Slowly he undid something from his neck, and held it out to Kallus. A crystal that shone oddly in the red light of the ray shields. 

Kallus stared at him, genuinely bemused, all thoughts of seduction banished from his brain.

“Take it,” growled the lasat, brandishing it at him. 

“What?” asked Kallus incredulously, dropping his friendly act for the moment. “Why?” He eyed the thing with mistrust, then looked up at the lasat’s face. He looked deadly serious. 

“Hopefully, it’ll solve this mess.” With trepidation, Kallus reached out a hand. Outside the cell, he saw Wren’s hand twitch over her blaster. He brushed his fingers lightly over the crystal’s surface, then took the whole thing into his fist. Nothing happened. 

He looked up at Orrelios, who was looking back at him with a look of ferocious  _ longing _ . With a jolt, Kallus realized he might have his chance back. Could he fool Orrelios into believing he was his lover long enough to escape this cell? He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it crossed his mind. He doubted he’d have much better luck than he’d had back in the medbay when he’d woken up. 

Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but I don’t think it happened.” The lasat pursed his lips, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then reached out for the crystal. 

“I’ll take tha’ back, then.” 

“You really miss him, don’t you, this other me.” Orrelios didn’t answer, just leaned in toward him and made a grab for the crystal. 

Alexsandr moved the crystal just out of his reach, trying to make the movements seem teasing, playful. “Maybe I should keep this then. Make you come back and get it.” He leaned in close to Orrelios, so Wren couldn’t hear them. “Maybe you can come tonight. Show me what this… rebel me sees in you.” 

Orrelios just looked at him then, expression unfathomable. Kallus returned his gaze. 

"You're not gettin' anything outta me," said Orrelios, finally. "I know what you're doing. You- well, Alexsandr - taught me all your techniques - or tried anyway. But even if I can't do 'em, I can recognize 'em. I'm not stupid." He held out his hand again. “The crystal.” Kallus pursed his lips, deposited the crystal into the lasat’s outstretched hand. 

_ Stay on his good side, Kallus, _ he told himself.  _ Don’t let his affection for your older self diminish - it will likely prove a useful weakness _ . He stayed sitting on the bed as Orrelios backed into the far end of the cell, keeping Kallus in view the whole way. Once inside the exchange space, he gestured to Wren, who switched the cell back to its smaller configuration. 

“Let’s go,” Kallus heard Orrelios mutter to Wren. 

“You seem to be going to a lot of trouble for this friend of yours,” he called out, letting his frustration get the better of him for a moment. “A friend I can assure you doesn’t exist anymore.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kallus saw Wren slip out of the cargo bay. Fine by him. 

Orrelios didn't reply for a long time. "Alexsandr Kallus is more than my friend.” He said finally. “And more than some... toy. He’s my life-mate.” His voice broke on this last, and shock shot through Kallus.  _ Life-mate _ ? "I know you, Kallus. Agent Kallus. You gave me an' the other Spectres a lotta grief over the years. You were cruel, heartless, just like the Empire taught you to be." 

"The Empire doesn't -" Orrelios held up a hand. 

"Just like they taught you to be," he repeated, harshly. "But even when you were as Imp as you ever got, you were smart, strong, brave." The lasat scratched his neck, and Kallus noticed his fingers lingered where his bo-rifle would normally sit. "Honorable. Loyal t' the cause that you thought was right." He stared directly into Kallus's eyes. "That Alexsandr is still in there. Has always been there. And I won't abandon 'im." 

Kallus had spent his whole life always trying to be better. Before they'd died, his parents had always recognized how driven, how intelligent he was. Penniless immigrants, they'd scrimped and saved to send him to a mid-level Coruscanti private school, and he'd been grateful for their sacrifice. Had always worked harder, longer to live up to their high expectations for them. At the Academy, he'd worked hard to set himself apart from the other cadets, and his efforts had paid off. His mentors at the academy, and later, the ISB had pushed him, knowing he could take it, would come out better at the other end for it. When he failed, his superiors let him know - an opportunity to grow and learn from his many shortcomings. He did the same to himself, constantly examining his performance with a fine-tooth comb, analyzing any failure so as not to repeat it in the future. He'd never had anyone say anything to him that made him feel like he was already enough. 

_ That Alexsandr is already there. I won't abandon him.  _

_ If this situation was reversed... if I'd turned coat, become a rebel, and went back to the empire, they'd say no such thing. I'd be reconditioned in a heartbeat. _ The traitorous thought went through his mind before he could stop it. 

"The Alexsandr you knew doesn't exist anymore," he repeated, coldly. "You're stuck with me now. I won't turn." 

Orrelios looked at him searchingly. "You woulda said the same thing to me four years ago. And yet, here we are." Kallus couldn't think of anything to say to that. 

"G'night, Kallus," said Orrelios finally, and turned to leave. 

Kallus sat on his bunk, unmoving for a long time after Orrelios left him. 

_ I won't abandon him. Life-mate.  _

It was a long while before Kallus fell into a troubled sleep. 

\-----

Konstantine was on him again the second he stepped back onto the bridge after his first interrogation session with Tabora. 

“I’ve just received word,” he said curtly. “All ships in the tri-sector area are to report to Champala to provide fire support. There’s been a rebel attack in the area.” 

“Need I remind you that I do not report to your superiors, Admiral Konstantine.”

Konstantine visibly bristled. “Obviously not, but our objective is to quash  _ all _ insurgent activity. I rather think the opportunity to take out a rebel cell as well as aid an endangered battle group should be our priority over the capture of a single rebel ship. If I may speak candidly, your actions-

“You may  _ not _ speak candidly,” interrupted Alexsandr, his heartbeat picking up. “My actions are  _ my _ prerogative, Admiral. Do you presume to tell the ISB how to do its job?” 

“Of course not, Agent,” gritted out Konstantine, his lips thinning with suppressed irritation. Alexsandr spared a moment to be thankful that he was too far back in his own past not to have to deal with Thrawn. Having been Fulcrum under his watchful eye had been bad enough. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to survive in the past like this without detection. 

“Then we proceed as planned,” said Alexsandr, as haughtily as he could manage. “The trap has already been set. I’m certain these insurgents will take the bait, and even if they don’t, I’m making headway in my interrogation. I believe the prisoner is in possession of information that will be useful to our mission.” 

Konstantine leveled him with a long look. He wasn’t happy about this, and when their plan inevitably failed, Kallus knew he was going to hear about it. It didn’t matter. What did matter was getting Tabora back to her family, to the Rebellion. To keeping the Spectres safe as they entered the belly of the beast, yet again. 

“Let’s hope you’re right, Agent,” he said finally. 

\-----

Kallus was roused from an uneasy sleep by the  _ whoosh  _ of the door to the hangar bay opening. Orrelios was in the doorway once again, silhouetted by the bright light from the hallway, looking almost like an actual spectre. Kallus feigned sleep once more, waiting to see what the lasat was going to do. Was he just here to talk? Could it be that he’d been lying earlier about coming for Wren’s benefit and he was here to take Kallus up on his offer? 

He lay on his cot, ever so subtly shifting so that one leg was just  _ starting _ to dangle from the edge. He heard Orrelios approach his cell and stop about a half a meter from the ray shield. The lasat didn’t say a word, or seem to move any closer, just stood and watched Kallus as he lay there. Kallus waited nearly five minutes, and when the lasat didn’t do anything, began to stir. He sat up slowly, sliding his one leg completely over the side of the bed so that his legs were spread obscenely for just a moment before he shifted the other over and sat at the edge of the bed. He was still wearing his “rebel” trousers, but he’d removed his jacket and shirt to sleep and he took a moment now to stretch, flexing as he did so, knowing just how the fitted undershirt he wore now would pull tight across his chest and ride up as he did so. Through the ray shields, Kallus watched Orrelios shift from one foot to another.

Now. What to call this beast. He took a chance, thinking about what the lasat’s other friends called him and what he knew about himself. _ If everyone calls you by a diminutive, will the full name actually feel more intimate?  _ “Garazeb,” he said, and oh  _ yes _ , he’d guessed right, if the look on Orrelios’s face was anything to go by. But the lasat didn’t say a word, just stood there looking at him, his alien eyes filled with longing.  _ Perfect _ . 

He rose. Slowly, deliberately. “Did you think about my offer?”

The lasat’s face darkened and he spoke, finally. His voice sounded rough, almost a growl. “I don' sleep with Imperials." But he didn’t step any further away, even as Kallus began to make his slow, purposeful way toward the ray shield that separated them.

"Well, that's clearly not true." He pitched his voice low, tried to make his tone flirtatious rather than scoffing. 

"It is.” Orrelios’ voice broke, filled with a mix of emotions Kallus couldn’t parse. Good. He was conflicted. "I didn't sleep with you - with Sasha - until after he became… after he joined the Spectres.” 

_ Became what? _ wondered Kallus. 

"Did I make it good for you, then?” he asked, finally reaching the ray shield, coming as close as he dared. The lasat hadn’t stepped any closer, but he was leaning forward a bit now, as though magnetically drawn to Kallus’s body. “Did  _ you _ make it good for  _ me _ ?” Where Orrelios was trying to distance himself from him, calling his future self Sasha, using the third person, Kallus made sure to minimize that distance. 

“You must have.” He answered himself when Orrelios didn’t respond. He slowly slid one hand up his thigh to his waist and back down again, silently triumphing as Orrelios’s eyes followed the movement. He raked his eyes up and down the lasat’s body and made a show of biting his lower lip. Every muscle in his body was engaged to project an image of relaxed and interested, when in reality he was anything but. He was coiled tight, ready to spring into action at the first opportunity. “ _ Look _ at you.” 

The lasat’s eyes closed. “Don’t,” he breathed, but there was no force behind the words. 

“This body of mine knows yours, Garazeb.” He dragged a hand up his stomach, his chest, pulling his shirt so that just the barest hint of his midriff was revealed. “It’s wanted you for days.” 

Orrelios didn’t say anything, didn’t open his eyes. Kallus felt as if the air between them was crackling with electricity, and it wasn’t just the ray shield. 

“You want to have your way with me, don’t you? I’d let you, Garazeb. And enjoy it.” He wished he could touch Orrelios. The lasat was so obvious; he could probably play his body like a fiddle. Then again, if he could touch the lasat, he wouldn’t need to be doing this.

“I bet you’re a little rough, aren’t you,” he breathed. “I’ve always liked to really  _ feel _ it when I kriff.” Even through the ray shield, Kallus could see Orrelios’s ragged breathing. So close. Orrelios was so close to breaking.  _ Deactivate the damn shield! _ “Or do you like to be gentle?” He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “I could see that too. Why don’t you show me?” 

“STOP!” roared Orrelios. He was breathing heavily. At his sides, his hands were clenching and unclenching. Kallus stopped himself from clenching his own hands, barely. 

“I know what you’re doing, and it’s not gonna work.” 

“Then why did you come here?” Kallus tried to hide his anger in case the situation could be salvaged, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t completely school the frustration from his voice. 

The lasat rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. His next words were muffled, tired. “Nothin’ you’d understand.” 

“Try me.” 

Orrelios just shook his head. “G’night, Kallus.” He turned, made for the door to the cargo bay. 

“I’m going to get out of here, lasat,” snarled Kallus, beyond frustrated and unable to conceal it any longer. “Soon. And then, I’m going to finish what I started on Lasan.” 

Zeb stopped, turned halfway so that Kallus could see his profile. His expression was unfathomable. “Ya know, I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me since ya got here,” he said softly. He turned back toward his path and left without another word. 

Kallus swore under his breath the moment the door to the hangar bay _ whoosed  _ shut once more, stalked back to his bunk, sat down heavily. He was in the right, he knew he was. Why did talking to the lasat always make him feel so kriffing terrible?

\-----

"So."

Alexsandr swept into the advanced interrogation room. Tabora Zaa had been strapped to the table in the center of the room. The harsh spotlight overhead seemed to emphasize her shivering, her anguished expression. She tensed visibly as he entered and glared at him, but her expression was shadowed with fear. 

He came to a halt at her side, arms clasped behind his back, his shoulders squared. He carefully avoided looking at her face as he began to speak. "As I said before, you will tell me everything you know, sooner or later. Everything that happens while you're in this room is your choice." He cringed internally. How had he never seen how twisted this was? How had he never....? No. He pushed down his guilt. He had a job to do.

He finally made eye contact, and the look on the togruta’s face made his insides clench. 

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. It wasn’t the first time a subject had uttered those words to him, but they’d never hit him the way they did now. He tapped in to every last reserve he’d developed as Fulcrum to keep his face from betraying his real emotions. 

“You tell me.” He injected as much haughtiness into his voice as he could, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. The togruta narrowed her eyes. 

“You don’t want to do this,” she said, her lips barely moving, her eyes probing him, her gaze feeling like it was reaching into his very soul. 

He stared back at her, dismayed. He squeezed the IT-O remote in his hand until it creaked. “Want has nothing to do with it.” 

She ignored this. “You can be more than they tell you you can be,” she said, her voice intense, urgent. “You don’t have to do this. I can  _ see-- _ ” 

Alexsandr cut her off with a violent wave of his hand through the air.

“Enough,” he snarled, more viciously than he meant to. “You can’t talk your way out of this.” Before he could lose his nerve, he pressed the button on the remote in his hand, activating the IT-O interrogator droid and piloting it out of the shadows. Another button, and a long, sharp needle emerged, gleaming in the harsh spotlight.

The mere sight of such a droid was often enough to elicit information. Whether the information obtained under such duress was accurate or not was... unimportant. As Alexsandr had well known but usually had chosen to ignore, torture was less about getting information and more about making a statement.

This being was stronger than many, but his experience held true. At the sight of the droid, the togruta’s face blanched and her breathing sped up. 

“You’ll tell me what I want to know.” 

The togruta closed her eyes. Her voice, so confident just a few minutes ago, sounded weak and breathy. “You haven’t asked me anything.” 

"You know what I want," said Alexsandr, stepping closer, close enough that Tabora tried to shy away from him. "I know you were responsible for the escape of the Rebels known as the Spectres." She opened her eyes, glared back at him as best she could. Alexsandr leaned even closer, allowing his voice to escape in a low hiss. "Are you really willing to throw away your life for them - some rebels you barely know?" The irony of this statement didn't escape him. "Where did they go?" He manipulated the IT-O droid so the skirtanopol needle was inches from the togruta’s neck. “Tell me!” 

“Throw my life away,” she laughed weakly. “You’re willing to throw away yours for the Empire. “At least if you kill me, I’ll know it was in the cause of taking people like  _ you _ down!”

A surge of panic overcame him.  _ I have to get her to stop talking.  _ “You leave me no choice then,” he said coldly, and pressed one more button. 

Alexsandr struggled to keep his face under control as Tabora strained to avoid the needle entering her neck. It had been extremely challenging to continue to carry out interrogations after he'd become Fulcrum, but to escape that life and then suddenly be thrust back into it was orders of magnitude worse. He watched, feeling bile rise up in his throat, as the poor woman struggled as the drug entered her system, as her body went limp, her face slack.

Alexsandr couldn’t help the anguished sigh that escaped him at that moment.  _ Please _ , he pleaded to each of the five gods his parents had kept lined up on a shrine in his childhood home.  _ Please, let the Spectres arrive soon _ . He'd taken a very calculated break, pushed it as long as he dared. By his calculations, they could be here any minute. If they'd gotten his communication. If they'd decided they'd make a risky trip to save one being they'd barely met. 

"Now," he said, unable to keep his voice from cracking. "Maybe you'll tell me what I want to know."

"I don' tthin' sso," slurred Tabora. "Y'll never --"

Kallus didn't hear the rest of her sentence; at his belt, his com vibrated, three short buzzes followed by three long ones. Priority message. His heart leapt. The alarms weren't wired in and didn't penetrate the sound-proof interrogation chambers, but he knew what it must be. Red alert. The Spectres had arrived.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the commments everybody!!! They have been giving me life!!

“I appreciate all the trouble you’re going to Sabine, but I really can take care of myself.” 

Sabine wagged her finger at Hera. “You heard what the med droid said. “You’ve got to take it easy ‘til the baby comes.” 

Hera sighed and folded her hands over her belly. Sabine was in Hera’s cabin, lunch tray in tow. Trying to enforce even a semi-bedrest for Hera Syndulla was turning out to be an act of god, but Sabine was determined to manage. 

“You’re family, Hera,” she said firmly, turning Hera’s usual words on her. “Zeb and I need you and the baby to stay healthy, especially now.” Hera sighed, reclining against the pillows Sabine had propped up behind her. 

“I know,” she said ruefully, rubbing at her belly. “You’re right. This little guy’s gotta be my top priority right now. I’m just not used to… laying around.” 

“Think of it as a vacation,” said Sabine airily, holding out a hand to help Hera to sit up at the edge of her bunk. “You’re going to have plenty of chances after this to fly around and get shot at in no time, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t think I know  _ how _ to take a vacation.” 

“Guess you’d better figure out quick,” said Sabine, frowning at how out of breath just that simple movement had made Hera. “Although I don’t think this baby’s got much longer to go.” 

Hera groaned. “I hope you’re right.” 

“How’s Zeb doing, by the way?” asked Hera quietly as Sabine set up the tray on a hovercart in front of her bed. “I haven’t seen much of him today.” It had been almost a whole day since their attempt to try to send Kallus back to his own time, and Zeb had made himself scarce in the meantime. 

“I think he stayed on base overnight. I saw him working on some of those damaged X-Wings when I went for breakfast this morning.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t think he’s holding up very well, to be honest.” Hera sighed. 

“I can’t blame him.” She rested a hand on her stomach, and her gaze lost its focus. “To lose the one you love, but have them still be alive… I think that’s almost worse, in a way.” 

Sabine didn’t know what to say to that. She was spared from having to respond as she heard a sudden call - Zeb. His voice was frantic. “Sabine?” Sabine exchanged a look with Hera, then hit the release for the door and popped her head into the hallway. 

“You okay?” she called. 

Zeb spun around from where he’d been standing in front of her door. He looked awful; his face was pale, almost gaunt, and there were deep bags under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped. There was actually a smile on his face now, but it looked strange, almost manic. 

“Jaelia just commed me. Cere Junda got back to them.” A tentative hope sparked inside her at the words. Maybe, just maybe, this nightmare might be over soon. She didn’t miss Kal the way Zeb did, of course, but he’d become family to her too over the past few months. She’d come to learn that his dry manner disguised a subtle wit, and the attention to detail that made him such an annoying enemy made him a weirdly okay friend. 

He’d instituted a tradition of “cultural heritage” dinners when the  _ Ghost _ was planetside, cooking up favorites from their various backgrounds. During one of those dinners, Sabine had mentioned a favorite dish from her childhood in passing during a conversation with Hera that Kal hadn’t even been a part of - he’d been talking with Zeb and Ezra at the time - and next Mandalorian dinner night, they’d been waiting on the table for her. When she’d asked, incredulous, how he’d known that was her favorite, he’d simply shrugged and winked. 

Sabine had only grudgingly tolerated him at first, more for Zeb’s sake than anything, but over time she’d come to appreciate him as Kal and not just “Zeb’s formerly murderous boyfriend.”

She glanced over at Hera, who waved her off. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go.” 

Sabine turned back to Zeb, who had one foot on the ladder down to the ramp already. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

Cere was already on the holocomm when Zeb and Sabine arrived, the image flickering slightly as she spoke with Jaelia and Tseeya. She was smiling, which made the spark of hope in Sabine’s chest bloom into a small flame. Hopefully that meant she had something for them. 

“Captain Orrelios, Ms. Wren,” said Tseeya, turning toward them. “I think we’ve got something.” 

“That’s right,” said Cere, her short braids clinking softly as she turned to look at them. “I had to pull a bit of a delicate string -” a far-off, melancholy look came over her, but it was gone before Sabine could even really appreciate that it had been there - “but I got your translation.” Sabine could practically feel the distress radiating off Zeb and put a hand on elbow, trying to offer what support she could. 

“You were right, Ms. Wren,” she continued. “I think this is a clue to help your friend, although how easy it will be to follow… I guess only you’ll know that.” 

“So what’s it say?” blurted out Zeb. “The message?” 

“Sending it to you now.” Jaelia gestured them over so they could all stand around the datapad in her hands. Sabine could tell that she wasn’t the only one holding their breath as they all waited for the message to come through. When it finally did, Sabine read it quickly, then read it again, and then a third time. She looked over at Zeb, who looked back. She imagined her face must look a lot like his - bewildered and a bit dismayed. 

_ A soul made twain _

_ A wrong to right _

_ A heart’s change _

_ The break to mend _

“What is this supposed to mean?” demanded Zeb, looking up at Cere. “ _ ‘A soul made twain,’  _ some posh core kark, that.”

“Sith, Jedi,” Cere said softly, not answering his question. She let out a short chuckle, although it wasn’t a joyful sound. “Sometimes, they can be so similar…” 

“Is this some sort of force test then?” asked Sabine. 

Cere shook her head and focused her sharp gaze back on the four of them, her eyes meeting Sabine’s. “From what I know of force artifacts, it might be. Probably is. And if I know anything about any Force tradition, well... you’re going to have to figure out what it means for yourselves.” 

A sudden beeping in the background of the hologram caused Cere to turn away, then step partially out of the field. Very faintly, Sabine thought she heard someone shout: “Buckle up, kids!” 

Cere reappeared. “I’ve got to go,” she said hurriedly, but she spared a moment to look into each of their eyes, lingering just a moment longer on Zeb, who straightened and thinned his lips. “Good luck, and truly, may the Force be with you all.” In a blink, the transmission ended, leaving the four beings standing in a bewildered silence. 

“Well that’s… something,” Sabine said finally. “A little, uh, cryptic, but that’s force stuff for you.” 

Zeb had gotten hold of the data-pad and was already reading over the translation again, muttering to himself. 

“A heart’s change, the break to mend. So what, we gotta turn him again? We did this already! What kinda’ karkin’ test is this?” 

Gently, Jaelia plucked the datapad out of his hand, probably so he wouldn’t have the chance to hurt it; it certainly looked like he was heading that direction. She looked over the translation again and Sabine peered over her shoulder, reading along with her.

“A wrong to right,” she murmured, the line sticking with her in a way it hadn’t at first. “Maybe this was more about Kal,” she said. “Maybe there’s something he’s gotta do, back in the past.” 

Beside her, Zeb grabbed hold of a chair and collapsed into it. Tseeya made as if to pat his shoulder, then appeared to think better of it. “Alexsandr’s gotta right a wrong. And Kallus has to have a change of heart. He slumped forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“How many times ‘m I gonna have ta do this?” he muttered under his breath. 

“He defected once, didn’t he?” said Tseeya, gently. “You know he’s got it in him.” 

“He definitely does. The question is, can I get him to listen to me this time ‘round.” 

No one answered him. Zeb sighed, heaved himself out of his chair. “It’s gotta be me. All righ’, ya dumb crystal, artifact, whatever ya are.” He took the crystal in his hand, addressed it directly. “Let’s see if we can go get Kal back.” 

He swept out of the room without looking back at any of the others. 

“Is he… okay?” asked Jaelia. Sabine let out a sigh of her own, shook her head. 

“If he can get Kal back, I think he will be.” 

\-----

Zeb stopped just outside the door to the cargo hold where Kallus was being held prisoner. He let out a deep sigh, leaned his head against the door frame. His head was spinning with everything he'd learned in the past thirty-six hours. The crystal being a Sith artifact, whatever that really meant. The fact that it appeared to be connected to something in the past, presumably his Sasha who'd -- what? Switched places with the imposter that was currently taking up space in their cargo hold? And then, the ancient Sith message. Heart’s change. Could Sabine and Cere be right? Was this some kind of Force test that Kallus had to pass?

Well, if anyone could have a change of heart, it was definitely Alexsandr Kallus. Zeb had helped Kallus see the truth once before. Maybe he could do it again. He closed his eyes, brought one hand up to clutch at the crystal that now hung around his neck, feeling its warmth against his palm. 

He had to figure out how to get Alexsandr back. Soon. Not only was he suffering, not only was he sure that Alexsandr was suffering, but the Alliance was suffering as well. It was missing one of its most valuable intelligence agents as well as a dedicated soldier, for though he was here in body, Zeb figured he might as well not be here at all for all the good he was doing anybody. It was like Alexsandr’s disappearance had completely undone him. He knew he should be able to go on without him, but on the other hand… he didn’t know how much more he could lose and still keep going. His family, his friends, his brothers-in-arms, his whole planet. He’d found another family, but that was quickly dwindling as well; first Kanan, then Ezra, and now… Alexsandr.

He’d told Agent Kallus that Alexsandr was his life-mate. He hadn’t yet had that conversation with Alexsandr yet, had only a vague idea of initiating it once the war was over, if they survived if. If his Alexsandr returned to him. But maybe he should. Garazeb Orrelios of all people knew how precious and fleeting life could really be… 

_ If Sasha returns _ …. That was a big if.

Two more days. He'd give this all he had for two more days. Try to get his Alexsandr back. But he couldn’t be out of commission forever. Sooner or later, he’d have to move on. Then he'd - he didn't know what. He'd have to talk to Hera and Sabine. Turn Kallus over to the Alliance? To be imprisoned until, perhaps, he turned again? To be - surely not - executed? Zeb shuddered at the thought. He clutched even more tightly to the crystal around his neck. 

_ It wouldn't come to that. It wouldn't, _ he told himself.  _ Heart’s change. _ He’d get his Alexsandr back. He had to. 

He let go of the crystal, straightened. Squared his shoulders, then took a deep breath, in for a count of seven, out for a count of eight, just as Kanan had taught him once. 

“Here goes nothin’,” he muttered, then hit the release to open the door to the cargo bay. 

\-----

Alexsandr rushed into the corridor, having barked orders at the Stormtroopers guarding the door - ordering both to watch over the prisoner. As an Imperial, he would have left one guarding the door and one watching the prisoner. As a rebel....this way, there'd be no one to warn the troopers inside when Tabora's rescue came. He'd barely got five steps away from the door when he saw two Stormtroopers - one suspiciously short - running toward the prison block and not the hangar, as they should be. His heart clenched at the sight of them.

"Troopers," he barked, praying they didn't just force throw him into the nearest wall. He pointed toward the cell block. "Make sure that prisoner stays secure!" The pair hesitated a moment, then the taller one let out a half-hearted "Yes, Sir!" Jarrus. He didn't allow himself to feel anything at the sound of Jarrus's voice, just watched the two long enough to make sure they got to the right cell, then turned and started sprinting toward the primary hangar.

He'd convinced Konstantine to divide their forces between the two hangar bays under the guise of being prepared for multiple possibilities, with the bulk of them in the secondary hangar bay, closer to the prisoner cell block and more out of the way, usually the safer bet for someone who wanted to sneak in unannounced. Alexsandr had, of course, told the Spectres to come to the primary bay.

He stopped short as he entered the hangar, his breath catching for a moment as he saw a four years younger Zeb and Sabine taking cover behind a pile of stacked crates and firing at the Stormtroopers in the hangar. Zeb snarled when he saw Alexsandr running in from the corridor.

"Not you again." The sarcastic eyeroll almost had Kallus tearing up, but he managed to keep his emotions under control.

"You will not escape this time," he snarled. He drew his bo-rile, ignited it, and engaged his mate.

He took advantage of his relative battle-freshness to herd Zeb toward the hallway he'd just come from, blocking Zeb from the Troopers' fire with his body, and blocking any reinforcements from their hangar from reaching the cell block with their twirling melee.

Fighting Zeb as an Imperial was... horrible. In Alexsandr's proper time, they sparred frequently, and so Alexsandr knew his fighting almost as well as he knew his own. It appeared his mate's fighting hadn't changed all that much over the years, and so Alexsandr was generally able to keep him at bay, easily anticipating his moves and parrying, getting in good blows here and there to make the show as convincing as possible. It almost felt like he was back in his proper time, except for the rage in Zeb's eyes, the way that he didn't pull his punches at all. They sparred hard at home, showing each other little mercy, but his mate wouldn't hit him hard in the gut with no restraint or aim for his head or his eyes as this Zeb did.

"He's not your mate yet," he told himself. "You need to win him back again. This is part of that."

They fought on. Alexsandr was beginning to tire, and he could tell Zeb was too.  _ Come on Jarrus,  _ _ Bridger _ , he thought.  _ Hurry it up. _ .. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the floor, the polished black durasteel jarring a memory into him -- the dream he'd had the night before he'd been whisked back to the past -- 

Zeb took advantage of his moment of distraction, landing a blow to Kallus's wrist, trying to force him to drop his hold on his bo-rile. Kallus screamed but held on, pushed back, trying to force Zeb back further into the hallway. He locked eyes with Zeb, and his heart broke to see him staring back with so much hatred --

Even through the din and chaos in the hangar, he heard a whisper in his ear. He jerked his head around, looking for the source, but he saw nothing. 

"Spectre Four! Come on!" Jarrus's voice echoed down the hallway in front of Alexsandr, and he saw the two Jedi round the corner, practically dragging the nearly incoherent Tabora along with them. 

As the Spectres approached, Alexsandr felt a wave of dizziness pass over him.... The whispers grew louder… he swayed on the spot, his eyes fluttering closed…

_ CRACK _

... and he opened them to see Zeb's face, much closer than it had been a moment ago. Almost as if in a dream, he saw Zeb's lips move.

"Sasha?"

\-----

Kallus was woken from a troubled slumber by the sound of someone entering the hangar once more. Orrelios. Again. He was starting to tire of this. 

“What do you want this time?” he called out, not bothering to try and mask his annoyance. 

“Think I finally figured out how ta get ya outta here,” said Orrelios, approaching the ray shield. He looked even more haggard than he had last night. Kallus rolled his eyes. 

“If that’s all you want to do, all you have to do is deactivate these barriers.” Orrelios sighed and shook his head. 

"I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I think you've travelled forward in time." 

Kallus scoffed. “You seriously expect me to believe that?” 

"It was this." Orrelios held up the crystal he’d had him hold yesterday. Even through the ray shields, Kallus could see its violet light pulsing, something he hadn't noticed before.

"Ya went all weird after touching this. Thought it might have, I dunno, erased your memory, but..." He hesitated. "The place we found it at..." 

"On Balmorra?" asked Kallus sarcastically, but his mind was spinning even now. Back in the med bay, Orrelios had mentioned a temple.

"Would you just --" growled Orrelios, then took a deep breath, quickly getting his temper under control. "Yeah. On  _ Balmorra _ . It was next to an inscription. Sabine managed to get some of it translated, and we think -" 

"It brought me here from the past. And perhaps, brought your Kallus back to my time.” The thought was sobering. What kind of trouble might his rebel self be getting up to in his time?

"That's about it," agreed Orrelios. 

"What did it say?"

Orrelios didn't answer him. "I wanna try something. But you gotta promise you're not going to run away." 

“You must be deluded if you think I’d ever promise that.” 

"It's nothin' bad," Orrelios cajoled. "’M not gonna hurt you." 

"Why doesn't that reassure me," said Kallus dryly, but in fact it did reassure him, a bit. Against his better judgment. "Fine," he said finally, being careful to keep his answer vague, not actually making any promise to not run away - not that he’d have any compunction breaking such a promise if it came to that. But being able to return to his rightful time, if Orrelios was right about this... time travel...  _ thing _ , was clearly the desired outcome. He'd cooperate with Orrelios... as long as it proved expedient to him. 

"C'mere, then." Kallus obeyed, moving closer to the ray shield that separated them. Orrelios mirrored him, until they were standing just about a meter apart. Kallus saw Orrelios take a deep breath... and the ray shields disappeared. Kallus's heart started to pound in his chest, but he kept his face neutral, even when the lasat took another step closer. 

"Gimme yer hand." Slowly, Kallus did so, holding it out tentatively. Orrelios placed the crystal in Kallus’s palm, let Kallus curl his fingers around it, then surrounded his hand in his much larger ones. Bewildered, Kallus stared into his eyes, taken aback at what he saw there.

"Alexsandr Kallus," he said, soundly oddly solemn. "You served the Empire. You chased me and my family for years. You tortured, hurt, and killed thousands of beings. You helped destroy Lasan." His voice was gruff and a little hoarse as he said the words. A wave of shame washed over Kallus before he ruthlessly quashed it. "But yer also loyal, honorable, brave, smart. Took ya a while, but you saw the truth about the Empire, and when you did, ya did somethin' about it." The lasat's words, his gaze were fierce now, and Kallus had to look away. He felt.... strange. "An' now, you work as hard as any other… Spectre, fightin' for what's right." He paused. In the absolute quiet, Kallus could hear his swallow.

"I -- I love you, Alexsandr." Kallus closed his eyes. This lasat, this rebel, was the first person to tell him that in probably thirty years.

"Alrigh'," said Orrelios, gruffly. "Now it's yer turn."

"My turn?" said Kallus incredulously. The strange tender moment was broken. He itched to draw his hands out of the lasat’s grip. 

"Your turn," repeated Orrelios. "It's uh, part of my theory. Tell me what ya like about me." 

"I'm not going to tell you I love you," returned Kallus. 

"Wouldn't expect ya to." 

Kallus tried to pull his hand out of Orrelios's grasp, but the lasat held on tight, not letting him go. "Can ya just -- please, Kallus." 

"Fine." He took a deep aggrieved breath. How did Orrelios expect this to send him back to his own time? If he was right, though.. 

"Garazeb Orrelios. Zeb." As his lips closed around that last word, he thought he heard the faintest whisper. He whipped his head around, but didn't see anyone in sight. Orrelios had probably brought his rebel friends to bar his exit from the hangar bay. As soon as he had the thought, the whispers ceased. 

Kallus repressed an annoyed sigh. "You and your rebel friends have been a thorn in my side for the past three years. You're standing in the way of progress, of order, and to what end? To restore the inept, corrupt, ineffective republic? Misguided, violent fools, the lot of you.

"But you're different than I expected," he said, frowning. "You fed me. Didn't try to get any information from me. Showed me a certain amount of... respect." The whispering started again, louder this time. "I don't know that my future self is happy, but I do see that he is well-taken care of, and that he is... loved. It seems that you... Zeb... are much more... honorable than I ever gave you credit for." The whispering was growing louder, overtaking most of his senses, but it didn't seem so strange anymore…

"Honestly," he confessed. "You’ve probably treated me better than I deserve. The - the Empire wouldn't have treated you like you've treated me were the tables turned. I wouldn't have. So thank you,  _ Zeb _ ." No sooner had the words left his lips than a wave of dizziness overtook him. He stumbled, feeling Zeb move to catch him --

_ CRACK _

He opened his eyes to see the luminous green eyes of Garazeb Orrelios, no longer tender, but filled with anger, hatred. He was filled, for a moment, with a sense of disappointment that was quickly replaced by a sense of elation. 

Orrelios's plan had worked. He was  _ home. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full chapter! all that remains is a short epilogue. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!! It has made my whole week. Hope you enjoy.

"Honestly," Kallus confessed. "You probably treated me better than I deserve. The - the Empire wouldn't have treated you like you've treated me were the tables turned.  _ I _ wouldn't have. So thank you,  _ Zeb _ ." With those words, Kallus swayed, stumbled. Zeb moved to catch him -- 

_ CRACK _

The man in his arms recovered quickly, as he had back in the temple, but leaned into him this time instead of jerking away. Zeb's breath began to quicken. This is exactly what had happened at the temple. Had his Alexsandr returned to him? Alexsandr Kallus opened his eyes. 

"Sasha?" He felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. 

"Garazeb," and by the Ashla, even just the way this man said his name, Zeb knew it was  _ his _ Alexsandr. Alexsandr squeezed his eyes shut and let out a few heavy breaths. "Garazeb. Please. What year is it?" 

"19 AFE," said Zeb, his voice cracking with the unshed tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Four days since you disappeared.” Alexsandr sagged into his embrace and Zeb crushed him against his chest and buried face in the crook of Alexsandr’s neck for a few long moments before dragging their cheeks together. Alexsandr clung to him, weakly returning Zeb’s scenting until Zeb was - somewhat - satisfied. He didn’t think he’d be truly happy until he was able to reacquaint himself with every part of his mate. 

Finally, Alexsandr pulled back just the slightest bit, leaning his forehead up against Zeb’s. “Zeb, “ he finally breathed. "Thank the gods. I thought I was going to be trapped there..." 

"Where were you?" asked Zeb, just as something Kallus said when he’d first appeared clicked in his mind for the first time, possibly because the intense anxiety he'd been feeling for the past four days was finally receding. “Wait… Kiros...” A memory of a fight from several years ago, the mission to rescue Tabora Zaa surfaced in front of his eyes. 

Alexsandr jerked farther back at his words, though he still kept a death grip on Zeb’s arms.

"How'd you know I was on Kiros?" His tone was incredulous. Zeb rubbed at his arms until they relaxed again. 

"Your doppelganger thought we'd kidnapped him from there," he said, thinking that the words would relax Alexsandr, but they had the opposite effect.

"My  _ what _ ?" 

"If I know the word doppelganger, I know  _ you  _ must know it." 

Alexsandr rolled his eyes. "I know what the  _ word _ means, but what do  _ you _ mean?" It dawned on Zeb then - did Alexsandr even know what had happened to him? 

"When you went back in time, you switched places with your old self. We had to keep him locked up on the  _ Ghost _ so he didn't catch wind of the Massassi group." 

"By the gods, I didn't even think of that." Alexsandr's voice was a horrified whisper. "I didn't think about what must be going on here..." 

"'S'all right," soothed Zeb. "You're back now. I don't think word got out to anybody but High Command and a couple a’ beings in Intelligence who were helping us work out how to get ya back. Although speakin' a' High Command, they're prob'ly gonna wanna talk to ya. And we should prob'ly tell Sabine and Hera you're back -- they're keepin' watch over the doors." 

Alexsandr let out a watery chuckle. "It never ends, does it.” He gave a weary sigh and pressed his face into Zeb’s shoulder. Zeb cradled his head in one hand and breathed his own sigh of relief. They just stood there for a moment, relishing holding one another. Finally, Kallus stirred. “All right,” he said. Zeb pretended not to notice as he discreetly wiped a tear out of his eye. “We'd better go. They’re probably waiting for us." 

"They can wait a minute. I think I need a kiss or two before we go out there." 

It ended up being more like five or six, but Zeb figured nobody needed to know.

* * *

Agent Kallus opened his eyes to look straight into the luminous green ones of Garazeb Orrelios. Only they weren't soft and glinting with that strange tenderness as they had been these past few days, but narrowed in anger and concentration. Kallus was holding his bo-rifle, mid-battle with the lasat, in what appeared to be the primary hangar of the ISD Lawbringer, although he didn't exactly have a lot of time to take stock of his surroundings. Orrelios had taken advantage of his momentary faltering, but Kallus quickly recovered, narrowly avoiding a series of attacks on his legs, his core, his head. Behind Orrelios, Kallus now saw, was the Ghost. He thought he saw - there! Spectres one and six, laughably disguised as stormtroopers and a togruta woman making their way to the open hatchway. No sooner had Kallus seen them than Orrelios was disengaging, loping toward the Ghost, dodging blaster fire as he went. Kallus raised his bo-rifle, ready to take a shot. He hesitated, thinking of how kindly Garazeb had treated him while he'd been a prisoner aboard the Ghost. Thought of the way he looked into his eyes, squeezed his hands tenderly as he told him everything he loved about him... then fired, deliberately going wide. He couldn't be seen not firing at all. 

"Don't let them get away!" he cried, signalling to a group of pilots to ready their TIE fighters and prepare for pursuit. He fired wide again, and by then all the Spectres and their friend had slipped aboard the ship and it was taking off. The TIEs were preparing too, but Kallus knew they'd never catch them in time.

It was hours later before he finally got back to his quarters. The backlash from his failed mission hadn't been fun to get through, although he strongly suspected that he had only himself - his future self - to blame. If everything Garazeb Orrelios told him was true, the Alexsandr Kallus who'd been in his place for who-knows-how-long was a filthy traitor, and had probably planned for this outcome all along. Kallus supposed he'd never know for sure. 

He collapsed onto his bed, frowning as he felt something strange brush the side of his arm. Something had been hastily shoved under his pillow. He pulled it aside to find... a pack of electrodes. Kallus' frown deepened. These looked like they belonged to.... his memory erasure device. He turned them over in his hand. Had his future self been about to.... erase his own memory? Erase his memory of the past four years, perhaps, to protect his friends? 

An idea started to form in Kallus' mind. Going forward in time had not been a comfortable experience for him. He'd seen the worst of what he could become, all thanks to that damned lasat. This could be the solution to the invasive thoughts that that... rebel had planted in his mind and maybe prevent that future from ever happening. And... maybe. No. He tried not to think of the little clues he'd picked up while he was there, about where he was, and the larger organization he strongly suspected behind the scenes, things that maybe he could put in a report. Really, there wasn't all that much. Nothing concrete. He wasn't doing this to protect Garazeb Orrelios. At all.

He stood up, tucked the electrodes into his pocket, and hesitated, pressing his hand to the heat he suddenly noted on his chest. He prodded at the shape for a moment before reaching to the back of his neck and pulling... that damned crystal out from under his uniform. He slipped it off and gazed at it a moment. It glinted in the dim light of the room. Kallus ran his fingers over it, noting that the surface was smooth despite the double-pronged crack in the middle. He thought about throwing it away, then, in a moment of... a strange emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on, he tucked it away into the chest at the foot of his bed. He stood there for another moment, then, filled with resolve, left his quarters and made his way toward the interrogation prep room.

This was going to be tricky, Kallus thought, as he set up the equipment. He had to make sure the equipment wasn't out of place even a centimeter to ensure that it wouldn't be examined in the aftermath. He'd only have a few moments to get all the incriminating evidence off himself and no more than a few minutes to get as far away from the interrogation prep room as he could. Ideally, he'd get back to his room and stage his fall there, but more likely, he wouldn't make it all the way back, and would hopefully be able to fall in such a way so as to look like he'd hit his head to explain the memory loss. And he very probably would fall, he knew. His subjects had all been sitting or otherwise strapped down the few times he'd used this machine, but he remembered all too well the way that they'd  _ slumped _ after its use.

He opened his drawer containing his advanced interrogation tools and considered a moment before selecting a few and set about creating a bruise on his forehead. He winced as he worked. Hopefully a convincing bruise would help sell his story without him actually having to give himself brain damage, but heads were trickier to safely bruise than, say, a leg. He finished, then prodded his tender forehead. Nothing visible yet, obviously, but he knew from experience what these tools did to the human body, and he had no doubt that extensive bruising would be visible within the next hour.

Kallus pulled the electrodes out of his pocket, carefully attaching them in four spots; two to his forehead, two to the back of his neck, and prepared the incinerator so he could dispose of them without leaving a trace. He stood on his tiptoes to reach the device up on its shelf, programmed it so he would lose all his memory of the past seven standard days. Everything he'd experienced in the future would be gone, as well as a few days before he'd been transported away for good measure. He took a deep breath, looking around one more time to make sure that everything was in its place. He poised one hand over the switch to initiate the memory loss process, hovered his other over the electrodes.

_ Three, two, one.... _

He felt a searing pain as he hit the switch. He counted, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, letting the electrodes do their work, then ripped them off and threw them into the incinerator. He set off at the fastest pace he could manage without looking suspicious back to his quarters, then began to slow. Why was he in a hurry again? In fact, maybe he ought to slow down, he was feeling very dizzy... by the stars, he should probably sit down, he just needed to make it back to quarters…

He made it back before he fell, barely. He went to his knees, then smacked the side of his head - and was it ever sore already!- against his footlocker on his way down to the ground. Perfect, he thought, though he wasn't exactly sure why. It was the last thought he had before he succumbed to oblivion.

* * *

They ended up not needing to have rushed out at all. 

"He's still not allowed to leave the ship?" asked Zeb incredulously when Hera barred their exit, informing them that Alexsandr would need to be briefed by High Command before he could leave. Alexsandr put a hand on Zeb's back. 

"It's what I would do, in their position," he said. "I'm now a huge potential security risk. For all they know, I could still be my Imperial self, and just pretending to be back to normal. I'm surprised my Imperial counterpart didn't try." 

"Oh, he did," growled Zeb. "He didn't even last a standard minute. I know my karking mate." 

"I know you do," soothed Alexsandr. "But still, I appreciate the thoroughness." 

"They're bringing a medical team too, to check you over. Make sure there's no unexpected surprises lurking in your brain," said Hera. 

Zeb's hand found its way to Alexsandr's arm at that. He clutched tightly on to him until High Command showed up at the Ghost and he was forced to let go.

Although "High Command," it turned out, was just Dravits Draven, medical droid in tow. The debrief took place in the Lounge, Hera and Draven sitting on the stools facing away from the table and toward Alexsandr, who was sitting, cuffed on a chair in front of them. Zeb had fought against this, but Alexsandr capitulated to the request - Draven's, of course - with good grace. To Alexsandr's surprise, Zeb was allowed to stay. He stayed standing, leaning up against the back wall. Sabine was called in as well, and settled herself unobtrusively behind Hera on the curved lounge bench. 

"Captain Kallus," said Draven, acknowledging him with a nod of his head. He looked wary but not hostile as they all settled in for what Alexsandr was expecting would be a very long ordeal indeed. 

"First, I'd like you to confirm your identity." 

"Captain Alexsandr Kallus of the Rebellion Alliance," said Alexsandr promptly. "Former Fulcrum Agent, code phrase: "By the light of Lothal's moons. Member of Alliance Intelligence, Massassi Group, since the Battle of Atollon. Currently stationed on Yavin IV, under the direct command of General Dravits Draven." 

Draven nodded and looked at Hera. "I'd say that's sufficient." 

"More than," said Hera, smiling at him, then even more warmly at Zeb. "Welcome back, Alexsandr." 

Draven leaned forward. "Tell us your version of events." Straight to the point, as always. 

Alexsandr told them the whole story, starting even before his and Zeb's walk over to the temple, telling them how the crystal he’d had for years had started glowing, now that he thought about it, the moment he’d got to Yavin IV. Hera and Draven mostly let him talk, asking questions here and there to clarify a point. Hera seemed particularly interested in the exact language he'd used in his Fulcrum communication. Draven pursed his lips when he mentioned Tabora Zaa for the first time, and finally interrupted him when he got to the interrogation. 

"So you interrogated a being you knew to be a member of the Alliance," he accused. He straightened, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, eyes narrowed. "You're going to have to face punishment for this, Captain." 

Alexsandr didn't show any outward change in his stance or facial expression, but felt his insides seize with a cold anxiety. 

"If that is the ruling of Command," he replied. "I accept responsibility. But I hold that it was the only course of action. If I hadn't interrogated her, I may have been discovered. It was much less suspicious to slow the escalation of my interrogation than to completely forego it. My methods never devolved to torture, or more drastic psychological techniques. I activated a Fulcrum pathway as soon as I possibly could, and she was retrieved by the  _ Ghost _ in a timely manner."

"That was quite the gamble, Captain," challenged Draven. "Why not just help her escape?" 

"If the  _ Ghost _ hadn't come, I would have. I thought it best to try a method that would not as easily implicate me as a traitor to start. If they'd caught and tortured me... I could have given up more intel about the Alliance's past, present, and future than any other single being in the whole galaxy they could have found at that time."

Silence fell after that pronouncement. Alexsandr looked over at Zeb. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, as if trying to keep himself under control. Finally Hera broke the silence. 

"It sounds like Captain Kallus weighed the risks and benefits, and made the choice that harmed the least number of beings while keeping his cover intact," she said. Alexsandr inclined his head gratefully at her. "I personally don't think he should need to face punishment for that." 

"I suppose." Draven scowled. 

Alexsandr finished the rest of his story without further interruption, except to stop himself as something occurred to him as he described his duel with Zeb on the Lawbringer. 

"Captain Orrelios,” he said, falling back on protocol while Draven was in the room. “Do you remember the fight I'm talking about?" 

"O' course," said Zeb, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the wall. "I remember the whole mission." 

"And the transmission you described exactly matches the one we received requesting us to rescue Tabora," added Hera. Draven looked over at Sabine, who responded only with a nod. 

"This has all happened before," said Alexsandr. He'd all but come to this conclusion already, but to hear the Spectres confirm his story, that they remembered his past few days as a years-ago mission was jarring. "When you fought me all those years ago, Zeb, you weren't fighting my past self. You were fighting  _ me. _ " 

Zeb closed his eyes. 

Nobody had anything to say to that, it seemed, and the only noise in the room for the next few minutes was of Draven furiously typing away on his datapad. Alexsandr shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hera stood from her tiny stool and stretched, took a seat on the curved bench at Sabine’s urgent hand signals. 

Finally, Draven’s furious typing stopped. “Right,” he said curtly, then gestured at Sabine and Zeb. “Captain Orrelios, Ms. Wren. Continue the briefing. For the record… and for the sake of Captain Kallus.”

Alexsandr listened with a growing horror as they described how events had transpired on Yavin after he’d disappeared and been replaced by his Imperial self, as Zeb and Sabine had slowly uncovered what exactly had happened and how to send his… doppelganger home. He glossed over it in his report, but Alexsandr gathered that Zeb had spent quite a bit of time with Agent Kallus and that it - unsurprisingly - it hadn’t been a very pleasant experience. He wondered if Zeb would ever feel comfortable telling him what had transpired. He’d probably never feel comfortable hearing it, but that didn’t matter.

“What I really want to know,” said Hera, breaking into his thoughts, “is what you two think Kallus may have learned about the rebellion while he was here.” 

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” said Draven primly, not looking up from his data pad. 

"I'm pretty sure he suspects a larger rebellion," said Zeb. "I denied bein’ on a base, but he figured out that we were. Then I told him we were on Balmorra - " Alexsandr glanced over at him at that - "but he was able to figure out from sniffin' the damn air that that wasn't true." Zeb shot Alexsandr a wink out of the corner of his eye. "Too smart for yer own good, Captain Kallus." 

Draven rolled his eyes. "And he saw the medical bay  _ and _ the temple," said Draven. "I don't like this at all, and there's nothing we can do about it. He might have figured it out and is going to change the future. We could be facing an attack any day now." 

"I don't think that's going to happen," said Alexsandr slowly, an idea occurring to him. 

"Please," snapped Draven. "I know you've changed, Captain Kallus, but he's not you yet. You can't assume --" 

"I'm under no illusions about my past self," interrupted Alexsandr. "If I had learned something tangible about the Alliance, I absolutely would have gone after it in a heartbeat." He hesitated, still thinking through the conclusion he'd tentatively come to. "But that Kallus has been back for years. Even if his future had diverged from the path I took, we would have noticed the change already. I doubt he would have waited this long to make a move. The fact that we're all here suggests he won't."

"We can't count on that though," countered Draven.

"We might be able to," said Kallus. "The Spectres remember that mission to rescue Tabora Zaa, remember  _ my _ transmission. This… has all happened before. But I don't remember my time imprisoned here. I had that artifact for years, but don't remember how I got it. I've known for years that there's a gap in my memory during the week in question, but I always thought it was from brain damage. But now... I think that after I returned to my time, all those years ago, I... erased my own memory." 

Draven openly scoffed at that. "Erased your own memory? Don't be absurd.” 

"Not absurd," countered Alexsandr. “I had access to the technology, and I prepared it for use on myself while I was there. I was going to use it to forget the past few years." He felt Zeb stiffen beside him at those words. "To forget everything I knew about the Alliance. To lower the chances of being found out, to eliminate the risk that the Empire could torture Alliance secrets out of me." He nodded slowly, sure of his conclusion now. "I must have used it on myself when I returned, to forget what happened here.” 

Draven and Hera looked at each other. 

"Why would Kallus do that?" Hera finally asked. Alexsandr shook his head. 

"I don't know," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I can only guess. And if I did indeed erase my memory, I'll never truly know. Perhaps Captain Orrelios was able to make a lasting impression on me. He’s been known to do that.” He gave Zeb a tight smile. Zeb returned it, looking just as strained. 

They wrapped up soon after that, Draven apparently satisfied enough with what he'd learned. The findings from the medical exam were unremarkable, and Alexsandr was cleared to return to duty, though Draven had reluctantly granted him a day or two to recover before he had to report back to Intelligence. 

Alexsandr yawned and nudged Zeb, who had parked himself on the bench in the lounge to wait for Alexsandr to be finished, but had fallen asleep in the meantime. Now that Alexsandr really looked, he could see deep bags under Zeb's eyes - it looked like he hadn't got much more sleep during the past few days than Alexsandr had. 

"C'mon," he said, shaking Zeb awake. "Let's go to bed." 

* * *

They made their weary way back to their cabin. Alexsandr hoped that maybe they could reacquaint themselves with each other a bit - nothing too athletic, they were both very tired after all - and so moved easily into Zeb's arms when he reached out for him. He leaned into Zeb’s touch, sighing gently as Zeb held Alexsandr's face in his hands and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. But he could feel that something was off. He looked into Zeb's eyes, only to see them starting to fill with tears. He brought his hands up and laced his fingers with Zeb’s, closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Zeb's. "I'm here, Garazeb."

"I know." Zeb's voice was low, rough. It sounded like he was barely succeeding at holding back sobs. Alexsandr's heart clenched. He had never seen Zeb reduced to this in all the time he'd known him. He squeezed Zeb’s hands, pressed their cheeks together. Zeb rubbed his cheek against Alexsandr's a bit, scenting, but not in his normal, intense, way. His movements were slow, as if he was moving through water. Alexsandr could feel his fingers trembling. 

"I was so ‘fraid I'd lost ya," Zeb finally said, after several minutes of this half scenting. His voice was so thick with emotion that his words sounded almost slurred. "I kept thinkin’ this was almos’ worse tha’ losin’ Ezra ‘n’ Kanan. Ya were here, alive, but ya weren' here. I wasn' sure y'd ever come back." And here his voice broke for real. Against his cheek, Alexsandr felt a wet warmth. He tasted salt. Witnessing Zeb's tears for the first time drew out his own, starting with a prickle in the corners of his eyes that gave way to a silent stream that further wet the fur pressed against his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he said, voice thick. He had so much more he wanted to say, but didn't think he could trust his voice to carry the words.

Zeb let out a soft, keening moan. Alexsandr's stomach twisted. His time in the past has been filled with challenges, danger, fear. He'd been so preoccupied with the fear of forgetting all about Zeb, never again having what they had, never even knowing what they'd had. He hadn't thought about how Zeb must have felt, stuck with his old self, knowing everything he had lost. Mourning what he would never have again.

"And then... when you said... you were gonna erase your memory. Forget about us. We coulda lost it all..." 

"I know," said Alexsandr, his voice breaking this time. "I --" He couldn't continue. Zeb clutched at him tightly, claws pricking at Alexsandr's back through his shirt.

"Karabast," muttered Zeb, his voice sounding very wet. "Yer here now, and here I am...." he trailed off. He seemed to come to himself a little more then, hastily rearranging his hands so that he wasn't pricking Alexsandr anymore, but hugging him just as tightly to himself. 

"I'm not much better," murmured Alexsandr, his face still squashed into Zeb's neck. To his relief, the flow of tears was starting to slow, his breathing starting to calm again. He pulled back just a tiny bit, the better to breathe. Zeb gripped at his arm, not letting him pull away too far. Gently, tapped Zeb's arm, silently asking him to loosen his grip, which Zeb did - grudgingly, Alexsandr could tell. He pulled back just far enough to be able to look Zeb in the face. He brought his palm up to Zeb's cheek.

"You've been through so much, my love," he said, and the words brought the lump in his throat, barely gone in the first place, back. "It's okay. Let go."

That did it. Alexsandr held tightly onto his partner as he sobbed against him. Once the tears started to slow, Alexsandr guided them both to the shower for a perfunctory scrub - they both needed it; Alexsandr’s body had been a prisoner for the past five days and it looked like Zeb hadn’t gotten around to even getting a sonic - into some sleep clothes, then into the bed. 

It looked like the intimate activities Alexsandr had been hoping for weren’t going to happen tonight, but that was all right. Just to be back in Zeb’s arms was enough, more than he’d ever dared to have again. They clung to each other, kissing and scenting until they both fell, finally, into a dreamless sleep. 


	8. Epilogue

Agent Kallus limped back to his quarters, feeling more tired and defeated than he'd felt in a long time. He'd been out of the chill of Geonosis' icy moon for a few days now, traveling back with the trader who'd picked him up and spending half day in the medical bay to get him -mostly -back in order but he still felt as though he hadn't yet got fully warm again. He placed the meteor the creature Garazeb - Zeb, he didn't allow himself to think - had left with him on the shelf just above his bed, allowing himself a moment to just sit, elbows on his knees. The rebel had been different than he'd expected, and in those moments together with Orrelios, he'd felt the slightest flicker of emotion... something familiar. Something he couldn't exactly name.

_ Or maybe you could name it _ , he thought traitorously.  _ And you just don't want to. _

He couldn't admit that to himself yet. Couldn't admit, either, how much it stung to see Orrelios welcomed back to his crew so warmly, and to feel how cold his own welcome back had been.  _ It doesn't matter _ , he thought to himself.  _ Shouldn't matter. The work I - we - do is important. _ But there was another thought he couldn't shake. Geonosis. Was Orrelios right? Was an organization that could so casually arrange the genocide of a species - of multiple species, he thought, his stomach lurching - really one worth dedicating his life to? Was this really the way it had to be, to keep order and peace in the galaxy?

He'd heard traitorous things like this before, had even maybe, had similar thoughts himself. Before, he hadn’t  _ let _ the words mean anything; anything negative about the Empire  _ must _ be wrong, traitorous. And the thoughts... well, he'd shoved them onto a shelf in his mind, high up. Unreachable. But now, the words were penetrating. And the shelf with all those tucked away thoughts was breaking, cracking under the weight of everything he'd stacked upon it. All thanks to one rebel....

He shook his head. No. He had to stay his course. Stay loyal to what he  _ knew _ was right. He stood and stripped, ready to get out of the filthy clothes he'd been living in for almost four days now, that had seen snow and dirt and the spit and who-knew-what-else of two giant bonzami. The scent of lasat. The... musky, heady - no, filthy - scent of lasat. He shook off that thought as well and headed to the shower, skipping the sonic and using two allotted water rations that he usually hoarded, the hot water feeling sinfully good on his hair, his skin, and finally banishing the chill that had lingered with him for days. Toweling his wet hair, he headed for his chest, and pulled out - and on - a pair of sleep clothes. He went to close the chest and saw... the strange crystal he'd somehow acquired on the mission during his lost week.

He stared at the thing, feeling almost unable to look away. The color reminded him of a... certain rebel -- no. He reached out to cover it with another piece of clothing, but stopped as his hand brushed its surface. It was...warm. Surreptitiously glancing around, as though to make sure no one else was in the room - although he knew that was absurd - he picked the thing up, and after a moment of hesitation, slipped it around his neck, under his shirt. The crystal just gave off the barest amount of warmth, but it felt comforting against his freshly showered and already cold again skin.

Stop it. He flung himself down onto his bed, pulled his thin covers over himself. He scooted close to the wall, where he could feel just the edge of the warmth radiating from the meteor. He closed his eyes. Tomorrow. He'd look into what happened on Geonosis, prove Orrelios wrong. He was sure there was a perfectly good reason for whatever the Empire had done there. Just like there was a perfectly good reason for what they'd done on Lasan, right?

Kallus fell into a fitful sleep. If he dreamed a strangely vivid dream of standing close to, holding hands with a strange, smiling, tender Garazeb Orrelios, ... well, there'd be no one to tell, even if he wanted to.

* * *

"There's somethin' I still don't understand," said Zeb as they walked hand in hand toward the temple. "Why'd this even happen in the first place? This crystal was all about havin' a change of heart, but ya did that already. And past you apparently doesn't even remember anything that happened anyway. So wha' was the point of all this?"

"I've been wondering that myself," replied Alexsandr. "I managed to find information about Sith artifacts, buried deep in Imperial records. The records from the Jedi Temple. There was nothing about this crystal in the records, but there were similar artifacts, ones that could transport a person through time. Often, they would transport their victim to shatterpoints -- events that could significantly alter the course of history," he added hastily at Zeb's confused look. "I was dropped right in the middle of a conflict on Kiros. I saved a group of civilians. I wonder...." 

Zeb squeezed his hand, hmmed in understanding. "You wonder... if ya woulda made the wrong decision as Agent Kallus," he finished. 

Alexsandr nodded. "And if that one additional instance of bloodshed in blind loyalty to the Empire would have been my point of no return. Perhaps, in bringing me back to the past, this artifact ensured that my future would be unaffected."

"Ugh, this is hurtin' my brain,'' complained Zeb. "Sorry I even asked."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Zeb broke it once more. 

"Ya know,” he said thoughtfully. “There was somethin’ else in that little riddle or whatever it was. ‘Bout rightin’ a wrong. It wasn’t just you that had your future changed when ya went back. Think about all those villagers you saved. Their children, their children's children - beings who never would have even existed if you hadn't gone back."

Alexsandr's throat tightened. The beings he'd saved... including the one currently on Yavin IV, fighting for the rebellion. The togruta he'd interrogated all those years ago, though to him it felt like just days. He'd looked her up after he'd got back but he hadn't approached her. Tabora Zaa, who'd reconnected with her wife Sya. Both had now joined the Alliance, were fighting back against the Empire that had treated them and their people so cruelly.

"You're right, of course," he said quietly. There was Zeb, as always to set him straight, keep him focused. Remind him yet again that it wasn't all about him.

They reached the temple, winding their way through until they reached the inner chamber, then approached the dias, Zeb carefully holding the amulet. Zeb was holding tightly to Alexsandr's arm, his claws pricking him uncomfortably.

"Relax," said Alexsandr, rubbing at Zeb's hand, tapping his fingers to let him know he was holding on too tight. Zeb backed off, but not much. "I think this thing is done with me now."

"I still think this is a bad idea," Zeb growled. He glared at the amulet clutched in his hand. "What if it's  _ not _ done with ya? I don't want you touchin' it again, if I'm bein' honest. I could always put it back."

"I understand," said Alexsandr, still stroking Zeb's hand. "But I did a lot of reading about force artifacts during my time away. I think... I think it has to be me."

Zeb didn't loosen his grip on Alexsandr's arm, and he made no move to hand the amulet back to him.

"Tell me if you start to hear those voices again, Sasha. Please."

"I will." Ever so reluctantly, Zeb relinquished the amulet to Alexsandr and let go of his arm, though he stayed close, fingers flexing. Ready to pull Alexsandr back the second anything went wrong. Alexsandr approached the dais. "No voices," he reassured Zeb. 

He placed the amulet in the center of the platform, letting go quickly and stepping back, touching shoulders with Zeb. For a moment, nothing happened, then the mysterious text around the dais glowed with a violet light. Zeb's fingers were back around Alexsandr's arm at that, and Alexsandr squeezed back. "Still no voices," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Alexsandr gasped and Zeb growled as they both saw that the crack in the middle of the crystal began to erase itself. They watched in silence as the crystal healed itself. When the last millimeter of the crack disappeared, a flash of light exploded from its surface, momentarily illuminating the chamber so that it looked like mid day. The light faded as suddenly as it appeared, and Zeb and Alexsandr were left standing in the chamber, now dimly lit by the soft violet light emanating from the now unblemished crystal.

"Guess you were right," said Zeb softly. "Would ya look at that."

They gazed at it a few more moments before Zeb tugged on his arm again. “Let’s get outta here,” he said. “I think you’re right that it’s done with ya, but I don’t wanna take any chances.” 

Alexsandr tangled their fingers together once more, let Zeb start to lead him out of the temple. “Let’s go,” he agreed. “Let it help the next person who needs a change of heart.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading everybody! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
